Mayhem Abounding
by BreathOfNocte
Summary: A generally chaotic romance between our favorite heroine, Sarah, and our favorite villain, Jareth, with plenty of goblins and silliness and fluff. Who could resist? JS - Not a crackfic, I swear... REVAPMED, and UPDATED
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, my friends, I do not own anything even vaguely Labyrinth related. I am a mere manipulator of Henson's genius, and all i recieve from the following silliness is a sense of well-being and freedom from the plot fairies that have taken up a tinkling existence in the back of my brain.

* * *

**Chapter One**

_Why me? Why today? Did I step on a cosmic bug of tranquility, and it's taking its revenge on me?_

"Remember, Sar, think Zen," I told myself as I stood outside my apartment door, holding a key that I knew full well worked yesterday, the day before, and every single _effing_ day in the three years that I had lived in this building, but was refusing to work now.

Taking a deep breath, aligning myself with the universe and whatnot, I calmly re-inserted the little silver key into the lock, and, still calm and at peace with the cosmos, turned it.

Only to have it snap off in my hand.

"GAAAARRRGH!" I screamed, chucking the stub of metal at my door and letting out a string of epithets that would make a sailor cringe. I backed up and roundhouse kicked the stubborn slab of wood, insulting it's mother and her loose morals, and found that despite the horrid shock it sent through my leg, it felt quite nice to cause my foe some physical damage.

So I did it again. About seven times.

After which, I collapsed on the floor and cradled my poor, throbbing foot. Glaring at the barrier between me and my beloved apartment, I summoned up as much venom as my 5'8" frame could handle without exploding, and snarled at it.

"So help me, door, if you don't _open_ in the next _three seconds_…" I started, but my vituperative threats were suddenly rendered unnecessary. No sooner had I uttered the word 'open', than the evil contraption had creaked ajar of it's own accord. Cautiously standing, I inched forward, fully prepared to pound the thing to smithereens if it snapped shut on me again. Rather than close, however, it swung inward and out barreled Domino, my Boxer-Dalmatian puppy mix, quick on the heels of several terrified, squealing goblins.

They crashed into me with impressive force and we tumbled down in a heap of fur and tangled limbs, of which, unsurprisingly, I was at the bottom.

"Lady Sarah!" I heard one of the goblins squeak happily, and the three or four of his brethren quickly repeated him, all squirming and wriggling until they sat atop my chest and beamed down at me. I noticed one of them was wearing one of my coffee mugs on his head.

"Hiya, Lady Sarah!" they chirped. "We been waiting for you!"

"Woof!" Domino agreed.

"Hey, guys, nice to see you. Why don't we go on in the house now?" I suggested breathlessly.

"H'okay, Lady Sarah!" they chorused, and scrambled off me. I lay there for a moment more, sucking in a gulp of precious air as everyone vacated my chest. Well, everyone but Domino.

Tail wagging energetically, he wiggled his way to my head and proceeded to bathe my face with his slobbery, goblin-scented tongue. I cringed and attempted to shove his enormous head away, but he ignored my pushing and began dutifully cleaning my ears.

Squeaking, I clamped my hand around his muzzle, imprisoning the wayward tongue in his mouth, and gave him a quick kiss on the nose as I wiped my face off.

"Hello, Mister Puppy," I said, and he gave me a doggy grin (or what would have been, had I not secured his jaws shut), tail wagging fast enough to break the sound barrier. Despite the fact that my eighty-three pound puppy was actually three years old, his nickname, Mister Puppy, still stuck. In fact, I think he preferred it.

"Have you been keeping the goblins out of my sock drawers?" I asked him. He snorted and tried to lick my hand. I laughed and released his snout, capturing his head and placing a big kiss on his forehead. He grinned, tongue lolling about happily in it's freedom.

"Good boy, Domino. Come on, let's go see what they want," I said, and hauled myself to my feet, cursing my earlier tantrum as my leg wailed it's protest. At least now I understood why my door hadn't opened. Things had a tendency to malfunction around the goblins…

As I entered my apartment, I gave thanks to whatever god had seen fit to bless me with not only my diligent guard dog, Mister Puppy, but with a never-ending craving for obscenely spicy foods. Not only was my bedroom (and all of my drawers) completely untouched, but my kitchen remained unravaged as well. After several attempts to raid my pantry and encountering nothing but jalapeño-flavored this and habanera-flavored that, the goblins had decided my pantry was guarded over by a curse that caused the 'burny-mouths', and now regarded it with something akin to terrified wonder.

Of course, the rest of my home was in shambles.

During their chasing, Domino and the goblins had somehow managed to knock over my coffee table, tip my couch and move it a good five feet from it's previous position, knock over every lamp in sight, and spread magazines, bills, and whatever other mail and paper-related objects they could find across the entirety of my apartment.

I considered myself fortunate they hadn't found the toilet paper.

Sighing, I closed my door and set my purse down beside it, kicking my shoes off and shrugging out of my coat.

"Alright, guys, you know what time it is…" I said, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. I was met with a mix of whines, pleas, boos, and one or two confused "Yaaaya!"s from the goblins, and a growl from Domino.

"Ah, now, you know better. Come on, help me out and I'll get you guys some hot chocolate," I offered, which was met with a much more positive round of noise.

"Lady Sarah, can we sing the cleaning song?" piped up the coffee mug wearer, who I had learned was named Dizz, as we started gathering up the paper confetti from my floor. I grimaced inside - why had I taught them that? - and forced a smile.

"Sure, go ahead," I said reluctantly, and was rewarded with a round of "Hurrah! Hail her Tallness!", which thankfully subsided quickly. "But quietly! Remember the Evil Bear-Man downstairs…" I warned. A stubby little goblin with orange horns and a marble lodged in one nostril shuddered.

"Not the Bear-Man…" he said fearfully. I patted his head.

"Don't worry, Keego, just keep it quiet and the Bear-Man will stay in hibernation," I assured him. Looking comforted, he promptly joined the efforts to right my coffee table and launched into song.

I cringed and tried to tell myself this was worth it - when they sang, they stayed focused and this mess would be cleaned in half the time. Their horrible, tone deaf voices were worth it, honestly.

I sighed. At least the lyrics were cute. As I returned my couch to it's proper position, another of my little companions tugged on my jeans. I looked down at him and pushed a few stray hairs out of my face. It was Gimp, so dubbed because at some point in time he had gotten his foot stuck in a teapot and now walked with a clonking limp.

"Yes, Gimp?" I asked, smiling. He ducked his head bashfully.

"Would you sing with us, Lady Sarah?" he asked shyly. I grinned at him and turned to the rest of the group.

"Would you all like me to join in?" I asked, and received an enthusiastic 'yes'.

"Alright, then. But that means only one story tonight," I warned. A couple of them pouted, but for the most part my condition was basically ignored. They all knew I'd read them more than one story anyways. Taking a deep breath, I launched into the song I'd taught them (at the time thinking 'Won't it be _cute_ to have a bunch of singing goblins'. Oh, how wrong was I…). I'd made up the lyrics one night on a whim and set them more or less to the tune of '_I'm a Little Teapot_', not that you could tell.

"_Last night I ventured 'neath my bed_

_Expecting to find the socks I'd shed _

_But lo, instead did my eyes behold_

_A terrible army, of horrors untold!_

_Glowing red eyes and craggely teeth_

_As my heart fluttered, "Spare my life!" I beseeched_

_Long shiny claws raked out at the dark_

_Lucky for me, they missed their mark_

_I threw at them the broom to ward them away_

"_Begone, foul beasts, I forbid you to stay!"_

_From under the bed came a heart-wrenching cry_

_It tore at my ears, then fades to a sigh_

_I peeked under the dust ruffle, fear tight in my tummy,_

_Then realized, dear me, I'd just vanquished dust bunnies!"_

In but three or four rounds of the song, we had finished all but the most paltry messes, and I was pretty much done with cleaning. Standing in the middle of my apartment, I looked around with my hands on my hips and nodded, satisfied.

"I think that's good for tonight," I said, and grinned at the cheers it elicited from my motley cleaning crew.

"Cocoa, Cocoa, Cocoa!" The goblins chanted, milling around my legs and pushing me in the direction of the kitchen. Laughing, I followed their urging.

After equipping Domino with a bowl of warm milk and everyone else with a plastic cup of hot cocoa (Dizz had insisted on using his 'hat', calling it 'his special drinker' and ignoring the fact that it used to be mine), we settled down in the living room, snuggled up in blankets, for story time.

"Alright, which story would you like to hear tonight, guys?" I asked. "And remember, only one. I have to save my voice," I told the groaning goblins.

By day, I was not actually a goblin nursemaid. I was actually a writer of children's books, (a far cry from my childhood dream of acting, but dreams change - particularly after they've been twisted and sabotaged by Goblin Kings) for which I often did readings at local nurseries, daycares, and libraries.

Hmm. Alright, so I guess I was a nursemaid by day.

I had a week-long engagement at a nearby bookstore to read my two newest books, _Dizz the Magnificent_, and _Marbles for Teapots_, which were quite obviously inspired by my present company. I figured, hey, if I was going to be subjected to utter silliness when I came home, I might as well get some compensation from it. At least their King kept his distance.

_Oh, yes, what a perk,_ a little voice inside my head said sarcastically. I scowled at it and willed it away. I was in no mood to think about said mysterious (_-ly alluring)_, glittery (_gorgeous_), tight-panted (_Oh, you noticed that, did you?)_ King of the goblins.

"This one, Lady Sarah!" said and unfortunate little guy by the name of No-Nose, for quite fitting and obvious reasons, as he set one of my older creations in my lap - _No-Nose Knows_. I smiled at him.

"Alright, this one it is," I agreed, and he chirped happily, snuggling into my legs. I looked around at all their upturned, waiting, squished and warty little faces, and smiled. No matter how rotten my day had been (_breaking your key in the door_) or how foul a mood I'd been in (_it doesn't get pissier than accusing a door's mother of being licentious)_, sitting at home, reading to my little goblin friends never failed to cheer me up.

I snuggled deeper into the couch and started reading.

* * *

Lounging gracefully on his throne, Jareth watched as his subjects trailed in, looking sleepy, and, dare he say it, happily _content._ They were never like this. If they weren't bouncing off the walls, something was amiss.

Unfortunately, this breach of protocol had been happening with alarming frequency as of late.

Stretching out a leg, he stopped a passing goblin who'd had his foot lodged in a teapot for ages, and reached down to turn his head toward him with a gloved finger.

"Where have you been tonight?" Jareth demanded.

"Above," the goblin responded sleepily.

"Yes, I assumed that, but _where_ Above? _What_ have you been doing?" he said impatiently. The little creature beamed.

"Listening to stories! We heard about a ferret tonight!" he said, a little more alertness in his features.

"Nuh-uh, it was a donkey…" objected a fellow wandering by with an upside-down mug on his head, which was leaking rivulets of brown liquid down his face.

"I liked the one about marbles," offered another one with orange horns, spinning the marble lodged in his nose with one finger. Jareth released the teapot-walker and slumped in his throne again, utterly nonplussed. He should have known better than to try and get any _real_ information from his subjects.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, there's chapter one for you. Much more on the way, worry not, but i seem to notice that things progress much quicker when I am urged on by many loving reviews. (translation : review, pretty please! *bats eyelashes*)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunate news, darlings: Though I tried my darndest, I was unsucsessful in convincing Henson's people to let me take credit for Labyrinth. Oh well. At least I can still fiddle around with his creations, even if I'm not getting paid for it...

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Squinting in the morning light slanting through my curtains, I sighed. Even though I was looking forward to today, I'd been having _such_ a good dream…

Blinking, I frowned. _Good_ dream? I'd been trapped in that bloody ballroom again - _NOT_ a good dream. Well, not really trapped… and, thinking back, that dress was absolutely _gorgeous_, if a little over the top… and, in the dream, I hadn't been a confused fifteen-year-old girl, but a twenty-five-year-old woman in full control of her lips, and using them quite-

Rubbing my hands roughly over my face, I rolled over, stretching and wrapping an arm around my handsome bedmate. He stretched and groaned in response, and gave me a kiss that was quite different from the one I'd been dreaming about.

"Blegh," I complained, wiping my face on my sleeve. "Morning breath, Mister Puppy," I chastised, to which he grinned and presented his tummy for his routine morning rub.

After our morning scratch, I rolled onto my back as Domino jumped down from the bed and fetched my shoes for me, then sat patiently as I hauled myself out of bed and slipped them on, along with my heavy winter robe over my pajamas.

"Come on, then, let's go freeze ourselves half to death for the sake of your bladder," I said, and he raced for the coat closet, pawing it open and snatching his leash. Holding out my hand, I accepted the slobbery rope and clipped it to him, leading him outside for his morning walk.

I winced as the frigid February morning air hit my face, and withdrew my hands into my sleeves.

"Brrr! Hurry up and learn how to use the toilet, Mister Puppy!" I shivered. The dog grinned, sniffing the morning air, and shook his coat out, quite obviously finding the brisk air invigorating. He started firmly down the path we usually took for long walks, and I groaned. He wouldn't settle for a quick potty break this morning, apparently, and I hadn't gotten properly dressed.

"Curse you, mutt," I muttered darkly. He chuffed pleasantly and continued trotting. We made our way through the wrought iron gate surrounding the apartment building's garden and along the wooded path, me huddled in my heavy wool robe and the blasted dog prancing along merrily as though it were naught but a bright spring morning. I glowered.

As we rounded the second corner to home, I noticed a flurry of movement to my left and my heart jumped, suddenly pounding erratically in my chest. I peered at the treetops, trying to tell - _had that been an owl? Surely not, white owls didn't live around here-_ but the causer of the commotion had since departed, leaving nothing but swaying branches and a paranoid woman in it's wake. I shook my head and quickened my step - _Stop being silly, it's not like it would have been him anyways,_ - determined to get back inside before my nose fell off from frostbite and I started to resemble one of the characters I wrote about.

"Come on, Domino, I'll let you drag me all over upstate New York tonight when I get home if you'll pick up the pace now," I bargained. He cocked his head for a moment, as though considering, then chuffed in agreement and matched step with me. I patted his head with the cuff of my robe.

"Good boy."

After feeding the furry one, I made my way back to my room, still a little distracted, and ran straight into the doorframe in the kitchen. _Okay, maybe a lot distracted._ I shook my head. _Focus, Sarah._

Domino whined and looked up at me concernedly as he left his food, following me into my room as I rubbed my forehead. I reached down and scratched his ears as I moseyed over to my closet.

"Alright puppy - today is the day. Whatever will be, will be. It is what it is, and all that," I said confidently, then turned to him and held up the two outfits I had picked out last night. "So, that being said, which outfit do you think will get me the deal?"

My fashion consultant chuffed and sat on the floor, cocking his head and looking between the two, before snorting, shaking his head, and laying down, looking at me innocently.

"Well I'm not going naked, if that's what you mean," I said firmly, then held the ensembles out before me, pondering a moment before choosing the tasteful dark green pantsuit. Usually, when I went to a reading, I dressed comfortably in jeans an a sweater, but today was different. Today, I had a shot at securing a deal with a rather prominent publisher, which would not only increase my circulation and therefore my royalties, but also would give me a more qualified, distinguished place as an author. Needless to say, I was giddy with nervousness and excitement.

Rushing though my morning routine in an effort to be early for my appointment, I hastily applied make-up, artfully arranged my hair in an "I just woke up looking this beautiful" clip-style, and scarfed down a cream cheese bagel before racing out the door, just barely remembering my purse. Closing the locked door, I reminded myself to stop by the locksmith's today - I needed a new key made, though the goblins had thankfully retrieved my broken key with the skillful application of a magnet, gum, and a fuzzy pink pipe cleaner. Settling myself in my cute little Integra, I closed my eyes and prayed fervently to whatever god was listening that my car would _start_- the engine growled to life when I turned the key and I sighed, smiling in relief.

_Here's hoping the rest of my day goes this well,_ I thought optimistically.

* * *

The rest of my day did not go so well.

When I got to the little bookstore I was reading at, I found out that - Hey! Sorry nobody told you, but we're going to be filming this reading for a telecast on the children's station, here, sign the twenty billion forms real quick and let's get started, 'cause you're late!

I was dumbfounded. Me? On _television_? Who cared if it was just for the bunny-ear channels, as a filler for the morning kid's shows, I was _not_ ready. It had been _ages_ since I'd wanted to be on T.V….

Not that I really had time to think about it. After being rushed through signing away of what had probably been both my soul and my firstborn's, I was rushed into makeup, _("Oh, that's alright, I already did my make-up this morning," I told the Phyllis Diller look-alike, but she just smiled tolerantly and shoved me into the chair. "Yes, sweetie, I saw that attempt. Now hush and let me fix it.") _and then onto hair _("But, _hey_!, I _liked _my hair! It looked-" "Sloppy? Unfinished? Slut-hoe-bag-just-got-in-from-a-rough-night-on-the-town? Yeah, hunny, I seen it, now sit still while I try to make you look decent,") _and then it was onto wardrobe, where I didn't even bother to try and defend myself, and far too soon I was being led onto the little stage they had set up, complete with eager but well-behaved little children sitting cross-legged in front of a cute little chair. I walked forward, sitting cautiously, and looked around at the people bustling around me in a dazed, confused manner. Someone plopped a book in my lap (_Ziggy's Crystal Hunt,_ I dimly noted) and told me to 'read, look pretty, don't look at the camera, and for God's sake don't puke' and suddenly the man behind the camera with the large red light was counting down to the start of the show and I noticed the large words "_On-Air"_ flashing - _Oh, God, was this __**live**__? _- and then some cheesy music started, and it was too late to do anything but read.

Unfortunately, about half an hour though the two-hour read-a-thon, the well-behaved children forgot they were supposed to be well-behaved, and started getting restless. Ordinarily, I would have used any number of antics to calm them back down and hold their attention, but there is only so much you can do when your being signaled frantically to '_keep reading, keep reading'_ from those nice people on the sidelines paying you, even as the little rugrats started pinching one another and causing obvious distractions. Eventually, we took a fifteen minute break, and I practically ran from the stage, seeking the enclosed solitude of the bathroom.

Of course, wouldn't you know, the ladies room was packed full.

I contemplated acting like a mature, rational adult and returning to the main room, but the horrid sensation that I was either going to puke or pass out if I didn't get _away_ from all these _people_ refused to ease and I suddenly found myself in the men's room.

Glancing around quickly, I ascertained I was alone and heaved a sigh, locking the door and sinking to the cold, tiled floor in relief. Who cared if I got man-germs on my butt - wasn't my suit anyways - or if it was improper for a woman to be sitting on the floor of the men's room? I was _alone_, blissfully alone…

"Are you all-right, miss?" a voice intruded on my sanctuary, and I suppressed a groan as I opened my eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just needed to pretend for a moment that I was a man. You know, helps with the anxiety," I mumbled, hauling myself to my feet and dusting myself off. I looked to my intruder and found that he was actually quite attractive. Tall, trim, nicely showcased in a tailored suit that matched his tanned skin, bright blue eyes and squared-jawed, white shiny smile. _Too bad he's not blonde,_ I thought wistfully, glancing at his thick, glossy black curls. I shook my head. Where had that come from? Black hair was nice. I liked black hair. I did _not_ like _blonde_ hair. Or _blondes_.

I focused on the man before me and his amused little half-smile, and tried to return it.

"Uhm, sorry, I, uh…" I stuttered, gesturing back at the door as though it explained everything. Stopping, I dropped my arm and let out an exasperated half sigh, half laugh, cocking a hand on my hip and rubbing the other along my forehead.

"Uhm, hi. I'm Sarah, and I'm a little frazzled at the moment," I said, and turned to unlock the door and leave him to commence (or conclude, whatever) his urination in peace. "Sorry I barged in."

"Oh, I recognized you. Please, stay if you need to, I completely understand," he said, and I noticed his voice was quite rich, almost like black velvet or dark melted chocolate. I smiled back at him.

"Thanks," I sighed, and ran a hand through my hair, only to find it stiff and unrelenting, having been saturated with hairspray and baked under the lights. I forced a laugh and hoped it didn't sound as much like a strangled sob to him as it did to me.

"Having a rough day?" he asked gently, and I actually did laugh that time.

"Oh, no, that's nonsense. I _adore_ being made an idiot of - a _ridiculous_ looking idiot of, who designed this stupid outfit? - on _live_ television after having only _hours_ notice that I was going to be on television at _all_, and then the children! Oh, the lovely, beautiful, well-behaved _children!"_ I exclaimed, falling back against the door and covering my face. I sighed heavily.

"Today was just supposed to be a meet-and-greet, impress the suits, you know? Not embarrass myself on _television_," I said defeatedly. I sniffed. "What kind of horrid people don't tell a girl she's supposed to read to restless, bored children for two whole hours under those soul-sucking lights until she arrives on scene?" I demanded, looking up. Tall, Dark and Yummy was standing before me with a sympathetic look on his face, holding out a damp paper towel. I smiled gratefully and accepted it, pressing it carefully to my face so as not to disturb all the muck that had been piled on.

"I take it back. Sounds like you're having a lovely day," he replied, making me laugh, and leaning a shoulder on the door beside me. The gesture reminded me strongly of someone else, someone with gorgeous blue eyes as well… - I shoved the thought firmly to the back of my mind and smiled at the man in front of me. He was attractive, obviously successful by the looks of his apparel, and I hadn't chased him off yet - he deserved my full attention.

"Mmm. Thanks," I said, holding up the paper towel. He grinned easily.

"No problem. Consider me available whenever you need a towel-boy for your nervous breakdowns," he said, and I giggled.

"Yeah, well, hopefully that's the last one. I don't want those arrogant, stuffed-shirt assholes out there knowing they made me sweat. Though, I'm sure it was fairly obvious, earlier," I said self-deprecatingly. A blind man could have seen I was freaking out earlier.

"Not at all," said Blue Eyes, and I slanted him a disbelieving-eyebrow look. I was a little unnerved, but I wasn't in need of coddling. "No, really. I was watching the first half, and I thought you looked perfectly cool, smooth as silk," he said in perfect seriousness, and I began to wonder at his sanity. "And I'm not just saying that because I want to get your number," he added with a grin, and I laughed.

Pushing off the door, I went to the mirror and sighed, looking at my awful stage makeup before straightening my back and smoothing the ugly brown suit as much as possible, and turning to Blue Eyes. He was watching me with a familiar look in his eyes, and it made me feel a little better to know I could still spark that emotion in a guy when I looked like an idiot and had just given him front-row seats to a P.M.S.-athon.

"Do I look camera worthy?" I asked, trying to seem cool and unruffled. He winked.

"Indeed you do, Miss Williams," he said, and unlocked the door, holding it open for me. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and strode out, fully intending to turn this mess around and leave today with my reputation intact.

* * *

I failed.

Miserably.

During the second half of filming, the nasty little buggers had degenerated into full-blown _kids_, and were rolling around, having little fights, alternately yawning and sighing irritably. I finally ignored the stupid adults on the sidelines and started handling the children as _children,_ rather than misbehaving props and pulled out my little puppets, which did manage to recapture their attention for a short while, but I had waited too long. Their energy was unreasonably high, and there simply was no taming them. So, instead, again ignoring the dismal cries of my bystanding employers, I relocated myself onto the floor with them and allowed them to climb all over me, engaging them in the story rather than just reading it to them, and while my story was probably lost in translation and I'm sure it looked quite chaotic and unorganized on screen, I'm also quite sure the children, my main audience, enjoyed it was much as they could have under the circumstances.

Sadly, I was not being hired to tussle around on the floor with rambunctious kids.

As I changed back into my inadequate green suit and scoured my face of the inches of cosmetics caked on it, I listened half-heartedly as I was berated for not following orders and making a complete mess of the entire ordeal. I accepted the chastisement solemnly, apologized for not doing what they asked, and took my leave, excusing myself from anyone who wanted to talk to me.

I managed to make it all the way to the back door, scant feet from freedom and my car, when I ran into someone.

"Wait, Miss Williams!" I heard that smooth, velvet-and-chocolate voice call, and my heart sank. I didn't want to see him now. I wanted to see him after I'd redeemed myself and everyone adored me, when I was wearing my own damned clothes on television and I was trusted to handle my own audience. I thought about continuing forward, pretending I hadn't heard him, but…

I turned around, plastering a weary smile on my raw, scrubbed face. I knew I looked worn and awful and not the least bit alluring, so I didn't feel pressured to try and make up for my impression on him earlier.

"Hey, you," I said, narrowly stopping myself from calling him 'Blue Eyes'. He smiled at me, and I felt like growling. How dare he look so fresh and perky?

"Glad I caught you. Just wanted to congratulate you - that was really impressive, how you handled those kids. I have three younger siblings, I know what a nightmare bored kids can be," he said, flashing a charming grin. I scowled.

"You aren't funny," I said flatly, and started to leave, but he shot an arm out and barred my path.

"No! Really, I'm not being mean or sarcastic or anything. I was honestly impressed at how well you were able to keep up with those little guys," he said, and I paused at the genuine look on his face. What was _wrong_ with this guy?

"Well… thanks," I said, awkwardly crossing my arms. His shoulders slumped a little with relief and I suppressed a smile. It was nice of him to hunt me down and pat my bruised ego.

"Sorry about everyone else; they were totally out of line. I watched the feed back, and it looked great. You really connected with the kids, and it showed. I think, if we gave it a chance, this could be a regular thing," he said, and my face froze. How did he have the authority to say that? I replayed the last few hours in my head, and tried to remember where Blue Eyes had been standing. Had he been with the other stuffed shirts? God forbid, was he one of them?

"What's your name?" I asked, and tried to feel bad at how cold my tone was.

"Ah, I'm…" he paused, probably sensing the ice waves rolling off me, and offered me a wary handshake. "Jeff Garner, Head Stuffed Shirt Asshole, at your service, Miss Williams," he said, and threw another of those charming grins in for good measure. I suddenly found him far less attractive. _Besides, he wasn't even blonde_. I ignored his outstretched hand.

"Ah. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Garner, and I apologize for my behavior earlier. I didn't realize the company I was in," I said curtly, trying to sound as politely detached as possible.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I thought you just needed someone to talk to, a regular old person, not a big wig boss. And I'm sorry they didn't properly inform you about the segment, and all, but really I think it all turned out just fine. The bit was salvageable, and I really think if we get someone experienced with the kids, everything would turn out perfect," he said quickly, but far from comfort me, it reinforced the ice in my spine.

"Maybe you're right. I suppose if it weren't a freaked out, self-conscious authoress doing the reading, maybe things would have gone a little smoother," I said, forcing my words to sound warm and understanding. The blue-eyed jerk visibly sagged in relief.

"Yes, exactly," he sighed, then caught the flash in my eyes and tried to back pedal. "Wait, I mean, no-"

I leaned forward, poking a rigid finger at his chest. "Now you listen here, bud," I snarled, pleased at the abject fear I saw in his eyes, "I am _damn_ good with kids. I spend half my time around rambunctious little gob-_children_ and I know how to handle them. Those kids were all hyped up on the punch that was being served backstage and I would have been able to pull off your little 'story hour' just fine it I hadn't been forced to treat them like pretty little extras for the first half. _Not to mention_, that I wouldn't have _been _a freaked out, self-conscious authoress if _you_," I poked his chest again, "had _handled _things, and made sure that somebody _called_ the _star_ of the show, to let her _friggin _know that she was gonna be on _friggin _T.V.!" I finished, and realized that my angry snarl had risen to a yell, and I was probably being stared at by everyone in earshot. I turned and shot the entire place a scathing glare, then spun on heel and stalked out, not letting my brain register that I had just told off my once-future boss and everyone at the publisher I'd so wanted to work for, quite effectively ruining my chances beyond a shadow of a doubt, until I was in the car and safely over halfway home. Pulling over on the side of the road, I let my head fall back against the foam rest and felt the tears of frustration pricking at my eyelids.

"I was lied to, called ugly and inadequate by a bunch of fashion rejects, paraded around like an idiot on some _stupid_ T.V. show, almost sorta fell for a _jerk_ who could have been my boss if I hadn't told him off, ruined any and all chances for a future at most publishing firms, and had to wear a stupid brown suit.

"I. Have had. A bad. _Day._" I told the empty air around me.

_And_ I still had to go to the locksmith's.

* * *

As I pulled into my parking space, I silently hoped that the goblins wouldn't be in my apartment. As fond as I was of the little guys, I just wasn't up to human-goblin contact tonight. I wanted to sit in my room, maybe draw a bath, sip wine, eat some chocolate ice cream, and listen to sappy music while I pitied myself and tried to figure out why the world was suddenly against me.

Of course, if they _were_ there, I couldn't send them away…

I plodded up to my floor and stood in front of my home, freshly-made key in hand, looking for the willpower to insert and turn. Finally, I sighed and opened the door. If they were here, they were here. If not, I was more than welcome to mope to my hearts content. I'd survive either way.

Walking inside and shedding my things a the door, I looked around and tried to appear perky.

"Hello? Any goblins running around in here?" I called, but was only answered by my faithful, loyal, trustworthy companion rushing to greet me. I smiled down at the only decent man in my life.

"Hey handsome. Come on, I'm feeling like Mexican tonight," I told Domino, much to his delight, and retrieved his leash from the closet as he went through his routine excited bunny-hops to express his joy at the prospect of a car ride. I laughed as he raced back to me and slathered my hand with kisses as I attached his lead.

"Alright, alright, psycho pooch, let's go before you tinkle in the house," I said, grabbing my things back up and trying to keep up with the furry one as he ran outside.

After convincing him to at least take a potty break before hopping in the Integra, Mister Puppy and I drove to my favorite local Mexican joint, which I usually frequented after a particularly lousy day. Determined to turn my mood around now, rather than wallow in self-pity like a (_fifteen-year-old brat, remember what happened last time?_) child, I cranked up the radio and the two of us sang (or howled, in Domino's case) loudly along to _Golden Years_.

As I pulled into the parking lot of _Hot Sauce_, Domino's tail started whipping excitedly and I chuckled at him.

"Pablo doesn't _have_ to give you scraps, you greedy hound. Don't get upset if you only get nibbles from me tonight," I cautioned him, but my warning fell on deaf ears. Of course Pablo _had_ to give him scraps - who could resist that adorable face?

I led him up through the outside dining entrance (which you'd think would be abandoned on a mid-February evening, but since when do New Yorkers care about the cold?) and rapped on the glass order-window. It didn't take long for Pablo, the restaurant owner/slave to the grill to poke his head out and greet us.

"Hey, Pablo," I said, only to be drowned out by Domino's excited barking. Pablo grinned.

"Hey Pooch! Hey Sarah. Shitty day?" he asked.

"Yep."

"O.K., quesadillas it is," he said, reaching behind him and shouting in Spanish to the cooks. He left the window open as he went to go whip up my food, and over the next ten minutes every cook in the kitchen came over to say hello to Mister Puppy, scratch his ears, and give him little nibblets. By the time my food got to me, Domino was sitting down looking quite contently full, probably having eaten a full meal all together. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Spoiled," I accused. He grinned at me, tongue lolling about happily.

"Nah, he ain't spoiled!" Pablo objected, handing me my change. "He deserves it. Oh, and the other box in there is for him. On the house," he said, winking at my puppy and giving him a quick scratch before getting back to work. I gave a long-suffering sigh and goaded Domino into motion.

"This is so unfair. The only reason they remember me is because of you," I told him, and he snorted, prancing along merrily, as though saying _Well, of course, silly human. How else would it be?_

I rolled my eyes and smiled a little. "Well, you aren't getting the rest of this tonight. One Mexican meal is enough," I said firmly, and he looked up at me woundedly, pulling out the puppy eyes.

"Oh, no, I'm holding firm. Tomorrow night, maybe, but no more today. Don't want to upset your tummy," I told him, opening the car door for His Majesty. He sighed and jumped up into the passenger seat, lying down and moping. I laughed.

"You're a shameless ham, pup."

I ended up feeding him bits from his box on the way home.

* * *

Those goblins were _relentless_.

Jareth had been trying vainly all day to ignore their noisy chattering, but they just wouldn't _stop_! And _all_ of them were doing it, throughout the entire Labyrinth!

Puffing out an irritated breath, he fluidly rose from his throne and stalked over to the nearest bunch, standing directly behind them and tapping his booted foot impatiently for several moments before he cleared his throat.

The goblins jumped, scattering in terror and tripping over themselves, making a huge, noisy tangle of teapots, limbs and horns.

"Oh! Hi, King," said the one with the marble shoved up his nose from the bottom of the pile when he noticed the shiny black boots tapping in front of his face. His fellows repeated him as they untangled themselves and Jareth rolled his eyes.

"What the devil have you all been doing today? I haven't had a moment's peace," he snapped, and the mug-wearer perked up, holding up for Jareth's inspection a collection of rather fuzzy looking pickles.

"We is making a 'Better Now' thingy for Lady Sarah!" informed the teapot-walker. Jareth blanched.

"_What?_"

The marble owner nodded. "Yeah, she has a Bad Day, with the lies-"

"And the Stupid Uglies-"

"And the Bossy _Jerk_-"

"And the pubish…puhbling…pushib firming…"

"And the Stupid Uglies-"

"AND THE SUIT!"

"_**Alright!**_" Jareth yelled, pressing his fingers to his temples. "I understand she had a bad day," he said, trying to pretend like his stomach hadn't just dropped out. _Sarah? They've been seeing Sarah? All this time and I haven't realized -_ "Get to _what_ you are doing," he demanded.

"Well, Lady Sarah feel bad-"

"So we makes her feel better! Gives her all the stuffs that makes _us_ feel better after we get bogged-"

"Or tossed-"

"Or get the burny-mouths-"

"Or lose the chicken race-"

"_**Yes**_, I know what makes you feel bad," Jareth growled, striving to remain patient. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, and looked down at his little subjects.

"So, you are creating a sort of 'get well' care basket for Sarah, correct?"

The goblins nodded enthusiastically.

"And what sort of things are you giving her?"

* * *

I stepped into my apartment, swinging my dinner bag and belting out the cleaning song with enough gusto to put an opera singer to shame, and stopped cold as I saw the huge pile of junk on my coffee table. _Are those pickles?_

I set my things down and cautiously approached it, remaining wary that it may suddenly come to life and devour me. Sighing, I stood before it, noticing (aside from the slightly furry pickles) a clock with sushi instead of numbers, a pair of wool socks, a 'make your own hot sauce' kit, a hip flask with a baby picture engraved on it and the words "As if you needed another reason to drink", and several other rather random items I could only assume were gifts from my goblin friends. I smiled and fought down the twinge of guilt I felt rising - how could I have hoped for them not to be here tonight?

Sitting down on my couch, I gingerly picked up one of the pickles, trying very hard not to grimace at the sensation of touching food with _hair_, and considered it.

"Well, isn't this tasty looking, Domino?" I said. My puppy gave me a suspicious look, as though I had possibly gone mad. _It __**must **__be bad if even Domino, the breathing vacuum cleaner, won't eat it._

From the direction of my kitchen I heard a sudden spurt of whisperings and mutterings.

"Oh, no! She said it looks tasty!"

"What if she _eats_ it?"

"It's not for eating!"

"Hush! Lady Sarah won't eat the pickle, she's too nice."

"But she might scare the pickle…"

Trying not to giggle, I raised it to my face and pretended to sniff it, actually holding my breath to keep from gagging.

"Mmmm, smells good too, Domino. Would you like to share it with me?" I asked, offering my pup the first bite. He turned his nose up at it and snorted, obviously decreeing the fuzzy pickle unworthy of his refined palate. More squeaks of horror and protests sounded from my hallway, and I leaned back, stretching my legs out and crossing my ankles on the table. Opening my mouth wide, I brought the pickle to my waiting maw with absurd slowness, accompanying my actions with an overdone "Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!"

"NOOOOOOO!" came an anguished cry, and suddenly my living room was swarming with horrified goblins.

"Lady Sarah, wait! _Don't eat the pickle!_" cried Gimp, hobbling noisily toward me with impressive speed.

"What? Whyever not, Gimp?" I asked innocently as he seized the endangered pickle from me and cradled it gently.

"It's not for _eating_, Lady Sarah," said Keego, clambering up into my lap and wringing his orange horns anxiously. I adopted a confused expression.

"Well, if I'm not supposed to _eat_ the pickle, what _am _I supposed to do?"

"It's for _petting_, see?" said Gimp, lovingly stroking the furred snack. I widened my eyes in realization.

"Aah, I see," I said wisely, nodding my head. All the goblins collectively sighed and relaxed. Gimp held out the pickle to me, less protective now that he was assured I knew better than to eat it.

"See, when you pets it, it makes you feel better," he said, and pantomimed petting the pickle's coat. Several others nodded in accord. "Always makes us feel better," they agreed. I frowned at them.

"What makes you think I need to feel better?" I asked. They adopted sympathetic looks, and Keego reached up to pat my hair.

"We heards Lady Sarah say she had a Bad Day, so we makes her feel better," said Dizz, scratching at his forehead, which seemed to be coated with dried hot chocolate. I felt my features soften.

"So you guys made me a care package," I realized, and they all nodded enthusiastically. I felt my eyes water.

"Awwww, thanks, you guys!" I said, grabbing an armful or two of them and scooping them into a hug. "You're the best," I sniffled.

Gimp, who was sandwiched in my arms, held out the treasured pickle.

"Go ahead, Lady Sarah, give it a pet!" he said, and I gave a little sobby laugh, giving the thing a few obligatory pats.

Releasing my grip on my little friends, I settled back, reaching for the remote and turning on the T.V. for them to watch while I ate my dinner. Flipping through the channels, I happened across something that looked extremely familiar in the kid's section…

"Look look look!" cried a skinny little goblin with a beak,-_Tooka, I think his name is -_ as he pointed excitedly at the screen.

"It's Lady Sarah!" another exclaimed, bouncing excitedly. I groaned - it was the segment I'd filmed earlier, replaying for the evening filler. "How did you get in the color box, Lady Sarah?" Keego asked, awestruck, as he looked up at me. I smiled.

"Well, I'm magic, didn't you know?" I replied, disentangling myself from them and walking back to retrieve my dinner. They replied with a chorus of "Ooooooohhhhh's".

"Just like King," one of them whispered.

I faltered in my stride, but quickly recovered and headed into the kitchen for a plate. I was _not_ going to think about their King, _not not not_-

I looked down at my hands in horror, freezing before I touched my food, as I realized I'd nearly gotten fuzzy pickle all over the things I was going to _consume_.

Rushing to the bathroom, I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it, and scrubbed them vigorously as I berated myself. _If you hadn't been so busy __**not**__ thinking that glitter-panted, crystal-fondling __**prat**__ - _

Out in the living room, I heard the goblins giggling cheerfully at something on the television, and I glanced in their direction. _Maybe I didn't do so awful…_

As I exited the bathroom, I glanced into my room and saw something sparkly on my bed.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oooohohohoho, did Jareth perchance leave darling Sarah something sparkly to cheer her up? Or did she finally find that rhinestone bustier she's been missing? And what will become of the fuzzy pickles? Stay tuned to find out, and review to find out faster!

Speaking of reviews, thanks so much to those of you who did! *huggles* I feel so warm and fuzzy inside...

**Notwritten:** Thank you, darling! *big smile*

**Comedychik84: **Haha, I think I'm actually going to frame that song. ^.^ Hope you like chapter two!

**Natsuko37:** Thank you, M'dear! I'm glad i was able to come across as cute - my little sister thought Sarah was too whiney, lol.

**Kms5665:** I considered having him explode into a cloud of glitter, but I thought it may be detrimental to the romantic bits later on...


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Greetings, darlings! In case any of you were wondering, no, I have not yet been able to seize ownership of Labyrinth, but I am working on it. I have ingratiated myself with several goblins, and they are putting in good words for me. Though it may be in vain, as goblins seem to have an odd sense of the word 'good'.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Jareth knew he was in a bad way when even bogging chickens had lost it's appeal.

Slumping into his throne, he massaged his temples and sighed heavily.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, had been the niggling knowledge that his goblins were still talking to Sarah. Just because he'd been stubborn and thrown a bit of a tantrum after she'd rejected him, vowing to swear off mortal dames and their infuriatingly willful ways, didn't mean his subjects had. And really, could he blame them?

Moping, he half-heartedly tossed a crystal across his empty (but for the chickens, of course - the chickens never went away) throne room, watching it shatter into cheerful clouds of glitter. He scowled at it. A sudden wind picked up, gusting in through the window and seizing the remains, pulverizing the pile and scattering the sparkly remnants this way and that.

Smirking triumphantly, he reclined into his throne and draped his lanky limbs over the sides. _Sparkle merrily at __**me**__, will you…_

Right then, at that very instant, he knew that the goblins were in her home, arranging a pile of…gifts… for the girl (_Woman, now, actually,_) to brighten her day when she returned. He looked musingly at his hands.

Should he give her something?

But…what if she rejected him again?

"Oh good lord, man, pull it together," he snapped at himself, rubbing his temples gingerly. "You will _not_ collapse into an angsty mess."

Deciding what he needed was a good distraction, he took to his feathered form and made his way over to the hedge maze to stalk out a nest of fairies that had taken up residence among one of the gardens and were currently shredding a rose bush that would ensnare anyone who tried to smell or touch it (or passed too close, or looked at it the wrong way, or wore the wrong perfume…it was a very sensitive rosebush). A good round of fairy-swatting should cheer him up…

After saving his flowers from the little beasts, the King dusted off his hands and peered up at the sky. He scowled. It was far too sunny for his liking.

"Why is it never overcast and gloomy when the mood suits me?" he growled to the Labyrinth, who, of course, ignored him. She was a temperamental little pet.

Strolling through one of his favorite parts of the maze, he found himself wondering what sort of gift would be appropriate for the lovely, long-absent Sarah, idly twirling idea-filled baubles through his fingers, tossing them to the side as he rejected each image.

_It would be a pretty thing, for her to receive a trinket from her elusive, enigmatic Goblin King, _he admitted. _Something to put me in her thoughts…_

He absently molded the one crystal left in his hand, caressing it into a new shape. He glanced down, realized what he was doing, and shook his head, smirking wryly.

"Jareth, you are an utterly hopeless sap," he told himself, the barest hint of self-deprecating humor in his tone, and concentrated more fully on his task.

* * *

I stalked into my room, standing over my bed in abject horror tinged with more than a little rage, glaring down at the offending object in the center of my bed. My fingers curled tight, wanting to hit something, but I forced them straight before I acted upon the urge - only to have them tense again of their own accord. I stood there for an endless moment, futilely clenching and unclenching my fists, before realizing how silly I must look and crossing my arms, spinning around so I wouldn't have to look at the provocative little thing.

Before long, though, I found myself peeking over my shoulder at it, my curiosity and love of shiny objects getting the better of me. I glared at it again, but, seeing as it wasn't moving, I felt a little stupid just standing there staring at it. I reached over and picked it up.

It was a rose. Or rather, a length of crystal shaped like a rose, glittering and refracting the light, creating ever-shifting rainbows in it's depths.

I sighed. _It's beautiful._

"Of course it is. What else would it be, given who it came from?" I said wryly to myself, and shook my head. It was light, barely there at all, and warm to the touch, as though someone had just been holding it.

Suddenly, my stomach dropped and I whipped around, eyes prying at the shadows of my room, seeking the definitive, wild-haired, wide-caped form of the king I'd defeated so long ago. _Think ten years is long enough to get over a grudge?_

Of course, there was no one there.

Letting out the breath I hadn't known I was holding, I returned to the living room, the rose clenched in my hand. Standing beside the T.V., I held it up.

"Who is this from?" I asked, though I already knew perfectly well. I guess a little part of me was still hoping perhaps one of the goblins had pilfered it from someone's house (like the flask), and had, in a spur of romantic idealism (_was not romantic, it was creepy - I don't want him near my bed,_ I told myself firmly_)_ placed it artfully in the middle of my bed.

"From King, prolly," affirmed Tooka, his bright beak mere inches from the screen. I sighed, ignoring the little flutter in my stomach that his words brought, and picked him up, setting him back a few feet. He never even blinked.

"Don't sit so close, you'll go blind," I warned him, though I had a feeling I could have told him he'd just spontaneously combusted and it would have had the same effect. _Kids today,_ I thought. _Brains rotted by television and glittery kings._

I returned to my room, standing at the foot of my bed and surveying the space before me, tapping the bloom of the still-warm crystal rose lightly against my pursed lips. Then I sighed again, scowling at the thing.

"I can't believe I'm trying to find a place to put a ornament from the guy who sent a whirling metal-bladed death-trap hurling down a dead-end tunnel at me," I said. I turned and plopped on my bed, lying back and throwing my arms wide. Frowning, I noticed my free hand was making a quiet crinkling noise. Flexing my fingers, I picked up a slip of paper and brought it to my face, studying the flowing, elegant script that glided across it.

_My Dear Sarah,_

_A little gift to cheer you up, if perchance the pickles were not satisfactory. Hope tomorrow holds fewer sorrows for you. _

_Jareth, Goblin King_

"Yeah, like I didn't know who it was from," I said scathingly, unable to find anything else to ridicule. This was… uncharacteristic of him. Almost, dare I say, _sweet_.

I found the crystal petals at my lips again, as I considered this new turn of events. I held the rose in front of me, making my decision.

"Well, 'one good deed cannot redeem a lifetime of wickedness', as the saying goes," I said, opening my nightstand drawer and dropping it in. I shut it firmly, and strode back to the kitchen, not once casting a backwards glance.

Alright, well, maybe _once.

* * *

_

He knew better.

He _knew _better.

"Once you let her in, she'll trample all over you, corrupt your subjects, destroy your castle, and ignore perfectly decent peace offerings in favor of furry _pickles_," Jareth raged to himself, after having angrily tossed the twelfth orb in the last few hours to join it's brethren in the growing pile of glitter behind his throne. He snapped his crop irritably against his leg, taking perverse pleasure in causing himself the physical sting as compared to the mental agony he'd incurred. He knew he was dissolving into an angsty mess again, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"In a drawer. In a _drawer!"_ he moaned, covering his face in his hands. He sighed, draping his lanky form over the arms of his throne and lay limply, arms dangling to the floor.

"All that precision planning, all that attention, dropped in a _drawer_ to be kept away out of sight. Lifetime of evil, indeed. At least _I _know what to do with a gift," he grumbled.

After wallowing petulantly for a few more minutes, he conjured another orb, idly shifting it through his fingers as he remembered the look on her face as she had momentarily considered displaying his present somewhere. Remembered how she'd lightly tapped the rose against her (_delectable_) lips, wondered what it would feel like to press his fingers against them…

He heaved another sigh. "You disgust me," he told the wild-haired reflection in the crystal he held. "Since when do _Kings_ sit about and mope over a girl? This is horribly undignified." He tossed the glass ball away carelessly, adding yet another casualty to the mound of sparkly remains (of which there were several piles scattered around his throne room, placed quite strategically to surround the King and usurp the throne, if they were so inclined) and swished his riding crop aimlessly.

"Well, I suppose progress _has_ been made…" he admitted, mentally replaying her discovery of his gift. Ten years ago, she would have tossed the offering in the trash and been done with it. "Perhaps the second attempt will fare better…" he murmured, and swirled the several crystals that suddenly appeared in his hand.

* * *

I stood in my bathroom, glaring at the elfin-looking cut glass bowl sitting on my counter, filled with exquisitely delicate leaves made from soap. Their lavender-esque scent wafted throughout the room. I hadn't remembered how much I liked the smell of lavender. It was a little unnerving that Jareth seemed to know I did, however.

What I was _really_ glaring at, though, was the crystalline rose nestled among the ivory leaves.

"Really?" I huffed, eyeing it sideways. "You're _that _audacious?" Oh, who was I kidding. Audacious was Jareth's middle name. Well, one of them, along with 'cocky', 'irritating', 'manipulative', 'sparkly', 'violent', 'temperamental'… the list went on.

_Of course, there's also 'beautiful, 'mysterious', 'powerful', 'well-endowed'…_I shook my head to derail that train of thought.

Last night, I had left the rose safely tucked away in my nightstand drawer, where I wouldn't be tempted to do something silly, like toss is into the garbage disposal or something (_like gaze lovingly at it until I fell asleep, wondering if I could see him if I turned it the right way…after all, his crystals show your dreams, don't they?) _This morning, however, I had lumbered into my bathroom to find the thing sitting jauntily in it's new home, indicating more meddling from the heretofore absent King.

Scowling, I turned away from the ostentatious (but really nice smelling) display refusing to admit that it actually did complement the deep maroons and purples I had decorated in, and stomped on the little warm, fluttery feeling that had arisen in my stomach region. Huffing, I decided was going to flush them all down the toilet. And then I was going to throw the rose in the garbage disposal.

"Teach _him_ to sneak around my house," I muttered darkly, wondering vaguely if crystal melted when it got hot enough. I was pretty sure the chop shop down the street had a blowtorch…

My musings were tragically cut short as Domino started barking manically in my bedroom, accompanied by a sound not unlike that of a herd of lemurs with a karaoke machine, and I ran to see what the commotion was.

"Oh _no_," I moaned.

The goblins were in my socks again.

Every _single_ sock I owned - my dress socks, my toe-socks, my fuzzy socks, that one pink stripe sock with no partner, even my fishnet thigh-highs - had been pulled out and either lay on my floor, or were in a goblin's possession.

Or, rather, I should say the _socks _were in possession of the _goblins_.

For some unfathomable reason, the little critters thought it was the height of hilarity to stretch my socks, pull them over their heads and squeeze inside (the farther the better - the goal seemed to be leaving only from their knees down free to move), and then charge headlong around the room, utterly blind, and scream like banshees.

Domino came to stand next to me, growling at any goblin who neared him, and looked up at me with long-suffering eyes.

"Don't you look at me like that, it's your job to make sure this doesn't happen," I scolded, cocking a hand on my hip and looking sternly down at him. He whined and bumped his shoulder against my leg. I sighed.

"I know, I know, they're sneaky." My gaze returned to the noisy, ridiculous chaos before me.

At present, there seemed to be seven or so goblins running amok in various states blindness around my bed, while perched upon it were two others, each with a rather different costume. Dizz, who was holding a squishy yellow stress ball with a happy face on it, was sitting regally above his companions, watching the events below much like Caesar would have watched his Roman games.

He had also stuffed a wad of socks down his pants, obviously imitating another ruler.

Next to him was a spunky little fellow with a brown washrag draped over his head. He had donned one of my red lacey bras (which was also stuffed with socks, though it was still far too big for him), and wielding a plastic spork with a Cheeto stabbed on the end of it.

I gaped.

"Guys! What do you think you're doing?" I yelled over the din. Most of the screaming died down, and several of them stopped running. Gimp, whom I recognized by his unique footwear, had not stopped moving, and barreled into a fellow sock-wearer, both of them tumbling to the floor with muffled "oof's".

"Why have you stopped?" screeched the underwear thief. "Lady Sarah did not say for you to stop!"

I frowned at him. "_I'm_ Sarah, and I _do_ say stop," I objected, but Dizz shook his head.

"No! _This _is Lady Sarah, Lady Sarah," he informed me, pointing to his companion. "See? Has the scepter." The alleged Lady Sarah waved the spork tauntingly. I widened my eyes, looking as awestruck as possible.

"Oh, my. What a pretty scepter!" I gushed, walking forward and gazing at it covetously. My impersonator beamed.

"I made it."

"I've never seen anything so beautiful. Can I see it?" I asked, and, still glowing with obvious pride, he held out the spork for my inspection. Before he could see though my devious plan, I whipped my hand out and snatched the 'scepter', quickly running away and holding it over my head triumphantly.

"Hah! Now _I_ have the scepter, so _I'm_ Lady Sarah, right?" I crowed. Dizz and most of the others cheered, while the fallen monarch gaped at me, horrified.

"Good! Then my first decree is that I am now and forevermore Lady Sarah, regardless of what anyone says, and my second is that you must all cease violating my socks instantly and return them to their rightful home!" I commanded, impervious to the wave of groans that swept over me.

"Oh, now, come on. Tell you what, when your done, I'll fix you guys up the leftover Mexican," I said, to cheers from the goblins and an aghast look from Domino.

I looked sideways at him. "What? Don't give me that look. You were lax in your duties," I reprimanded. He sulked and gave me his puppy eyes.

"Oh no, you'll have to take it up with them now, it's their food."

Fifteen minutes later, Domino lay on his back, tail wagging happily, in the center of the living room while the goblins rubbed his tummy and fed him bits of their lunch. I rolled my eyes at him as I passed on the way to my room.

"Shameless, puppy. Shameless."

He grinned upside-down at me, tongue lolling out.

Shaking my head and smiling a little, I went and dressed for work. It was such a cruel thing to have to return to that damned bookstore, after the scarring events of yesterday, but sadly, I still had two days left of reading scheduled. I was hoping that perhaps they would just turn me away when I showed up, sparing us both the embarrassment of having to pretend I wasn't the World's Greatest Twit.

As I sat down on my bed to slip my shoes on, I stopped and checked to be sure the space was clear before I put my weight down. Last night, I made the unfortunate discovery that the goblins also _slept_ with their pickles - one had been tucked warmly under my covers, and another had been stashed under my pillow.

I'd immediately stripped the bed and changed the sheets. No way was I sharing my bed with food that had better hair than me.

Darting into the bathroom to grab my brush, I saw the forgotten gifts sitting on the counter again, and this time noticed a slip of paper that I'd overlooked before. I picked it up, scowling again.

_My Dear Sarah,_

_Since it seemed that you were lacking for an appropriate place to display my last gift, I have generously provided one. I hope it's placement is adequate to your tastes._

"Oh my, what a lovely room! Who is your decorator?" I asked myself in a mockingly appreciative voice.

"Oh, the Goblin King, he's just marvelous. Have you heard of him?" I answered, affecting a snobbish, high-strung air of indifference. "He does _wonders_ with chickens."

_In addition to being a rather appealing decorative piece, the leaves also make a superb bath supplement. Quite comforting after a hard day. _

"Are you telling me you take _bubble baths?_" I said incredulously, shaking my head. Although, on second thought, was it really all that surprising?

_Hope your day goes well, darling._

_Yours, Jareth._

I shivered at his phrasing. _No, I shuddered with revulsion. Big difference, _I told myself firmly, writing off the little tingle I felt in my stomach as hunger. Good god, but I was a ridiculous creature.

_P.S. - Please feel free to dispose of the mutated pickles as you see fit. I don't particularly wish them to return to my kingdom. In fact, I am much enjoying their absence. For once, I can sit in my throne without fear. _

I laughed at that, despite myself. I couldn't help but imagine the Goblin King, in all his otherworldly, wild glory, having to chuck furry pickles out of his throne before taking a seat. Smiling, I propped the note against the little display, deciding that maybe it didn't look so terrible, after all. I returned to getting ready, a stubborn smile stuck on my face.

After dressing (casually today - I knew there wouldn't be anyone there worth, or under my ability, to impress), I returned to the living room and flipped on the T.V., setting it harmlessly on channels I knew would be safe for little goblin minds, regardless of what time of day I returned.

"Alright, fellas, I have to go warp the minds unsuspecting children with tales your insane adventures. Don't trash the house," I warned as I gathered my things, the goblins answering with a collective "H'okay, Lady Sarah!".

* * *

"**That's **_**it!**_" Jareth roared, flinging the crystal he'd been using so hard it demolished the pile it flew into, and storming over to the nearest chicken.

"All chickens are henceforth _banned from my throne room!"_

And he spent the next several minutes tossing chickens out of the room, which turned out to be a surprisingly therapeutic activity.

Once his domain was sufficiently poultry-free, he looked around at the walls, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his nose. After a moment, he twirled his hand in a careless fashion, and the from the walls sprung tapestries of imperial midnight blue and rich wine-purples, the circular depression in the center of the room overflowed with dark velvet pillows and cushions, the many ledges and stonework shelves held bright-flamed candles that cast flickering, feather-light shadows about the room, the windows were clothed in flowing gold silk and the stones fairly glimmered with the magic that saturated the room.

Looking around, he gave a satisfied nod, and returned to his throne, lounging regally. Now _this_ was more like the abode of a king.

However, it was _not_ the abode of a _Goblin_ King.

He sighed, slouching a little bit, and pouted. Well, he'd just have to let his subjects know that if they so much as _thought_ about holding a chicken race, or a shoe-tossing competition, or a festival of food fights, or starting a brawl, or any of their numerous other destructive activities in his throne room he would hang every last one of them above the bog by their pinky toes, with their noses a bare half inch from the water, for the rest of their miserable lives.

Feeling slightly better at this prospect, he conjured another crystal and replayed the bit where Sarah shivered and smiled and laughed at his note several times over.

* * *

All in all, the day wasn't _too_ terrible. I heard whispers following me as I walked by, several times all chatter stopped them moment I walked into a room, and one or two parents who had routinely brought their kids to my readings were absent, but no one was blatantly _mean_ to me. I decided to hope that this would all blow over quickly. After all, I wasn't a celebrity. I was an eccentric children's author who lived in an uncrowded area of upstate New York, well away from the bustle and smog of city lights and popularity. I stayed a little longer than usual, helping the employees clean up in an attempt to worm myself back into their good graces (I think progress was made - no one keyed my car or anything), and didn't start home until nearly dark.

I trudged up to my apartment, carrying numerous heavy bags of groceries (with goblins around all the time, it was important to keep myself stocked on bribe foods) and puffing a little as I tried to remember which pocket my key was in. As I searched my coat, I wondered if the goblins were still there. Maybe if we had story time early tonight, I could get a bath in… A nice, peaceful, relaxing soak would be heaven, after the past few days. Besides, I had those new leaf-things to try out… I firmly told myself that I wanted to take a bath strictly because I found them relaxing, not because I wanted to use Jareth's little gift. It had _nothing_ to do with Jareth.

I finally opened my door, shouldering through and rustling the bags noisily.

"Hey, guys, guess who brought home cookies!" I called, dragging myself into the kitchen, but the only one who came to greet me was Domino.

"Hmm. Just us tonight, huh boy?" I said. Mister Puppy methodically investigated the offerings I'd brought to him, and, seeing nothing in the nature of bones or treats, yawned disinterestedly and trotted back to my room, returning to his claimed spot on my bed and rolling around a bit to make sure the blankets were sufficiently disheveled.

Rolling my eyes at him, I put the new additions to my food stocks away, and tried not to run (or skip or dance, or anything so undignified) to the tub and draw a bath.

As the hot water ran, I quickly changed into my robe and gathered several candles, some nice, soothing music, a sappy romance book, and a glass of wine, returning to my waiting privacy fully prepared to spend the next several hours pampering myself.

Setting my things up, I turned to the new addition in my décor, hesitating before I grabbed a handful of the leaves to toss in the bath. _This isn't some sort of trick, is it?_

Smirking, I scooped some up and scattered them in the running, steamy water. If I suddenly turned up naked in the Labyrinth, Jareth was going to be in for a whole lot more than he bargained for.

In but a few moments, the entire tub had filled with bubbles. It was a good thing I didn't flush those things down the toilet, after all - I'd have been swimming in bubbles. Grinning, I stepped into the scorching water and slowly settled myself down, sighing as I was engulfed in the flower-scented foam and leaning back, closing my eyes in pure bliss.

I cracked an eye after a moment, peering over at the wine glass in my hand. Maybe Jareth wasn't such a villain after all… I mean, when's the last time I'd heard of a villain giving the plucky, conquering heroine a crystal rose and lavender-scented bubble-bath leaves? Maybe he was just the unsung, misunderstood romantic hero, in need of (_a good shag?_) some TLC…

I groaned and slipped under the water, blowing up air bubbles. Good lord, next I was going to be saying things like "Sending the Cleaners after me was all a result of your terrible childhood, it's alright", and "I understand you, Jareth, let's get together and make pretty babies".

Resurfacing, I shook my head, spraying water all over the place, and resolutely picked up my book, firmly deciding to think of nothing but a hopelessly sentimental couple struggling to get past their pride and circumstantial past events and other such nonsense so they could be together like everyone knew they should be. Stupid prats.

It would have been easier to concentrate if the heroine hadn't kept making stupid decisions and then whining about it not being fair (_Sounds a little familiar, doesn't it?). _I scowled. It was maddening. I was _sure_ I'd never been _that_ bad…

Well…alright, maybe I had, but I'd gotten better. (_And what's your basis for comparison? When you dropped his rose in your drawer? Or when you considered disposing of his lovely little bath leaves using your toilet?)_

I sighed, letting the book fall outside the tub, rumpling goodness knows how many pages, and sank down in the water, leaving only from my nose up exposed. I moped for a few minutes, idly playing with the bubbles, and glanced at the rose sitting on the counter.

Should I tell him thank you?

But, what was I supposed to do? Give him a hallmark? Send him a quiche? It just didn't feel… appropriate.

I smirked. Maybe I should write another song for the goblins to sing to him. After all, it was fitting for the hall of a king to be filled with the singing of his subjects, was it not?

I chuckled mischievously at the thought. It was downright mean, and I wouldn't do it, but oh, would it be funny…

Nearly knocking over my glass of wine, I strained to reach the rose on the counter, seizing it and nearly dropping it with soapy fingers, and pondered over it as I relaxed back into my tub. Absently tracing the petals, I wondered over what sort of thank you _would_ be appropriate, ranging from the simple: a nice card?- (_a pair of pants? Either leather or spandex would be nice…); _to the hopelessly extravagant: a full-length gilded mirror? (_That allowed access to my bedroom?), _though, knowing him, he probably already had plenty of those…; to the utterly ridiculous: perhaps a large cake with a sing-o-gram popping out of it _(Or a strip-o-gram, me of course)_; until my bath water chilled and I decided to get out before I caught pneumonia.

Drying off and cleaning up, I blew out my candles one by one, leaving the last lit for a moment as I brushed my hair out. I studied my reflection in the mirror critically for a moment. In the unsteady light of the single flaming wick, my green eyes glinted blackly and my hair tangled damply over my shoulders, my skin shone with an eerie gold light, my cheekbones looked higher and my winter-robe-clad figure looked slightly more lithe and powerful than usual.

I looked like a faerie queen of old, straight out of a terrifying Black Forest legend, capable of all manner of trickery and deceit and cruelty.

A little unnerved by the comparison, I quickly leaned over and blew out the candle, making my way back to my room from memory.

Domino complained as I shoved him over to make room for me, and I scratched his ears in apology. He accepted, and stretched, snuggling back up to me and snuffling my damp hair as I snuggled into my pillow. I smiled at him in the dark.

"No eating Momma's hair, puppy. I just got all good-smelling."

He snorted groggily and tucked his head against my chest. I gave him a sleepy kiss on his furry forehead (oh, no, I hadn't checked for pickles…) and draped an arm around him. It was hard to be compared to a viciously magnificent faerie queen when you were snuggled up to a disturbingly intelligent, spotted puppy.

The next morning, I had forgotten the disturbing image and was concerned with nothing more terrifying than facing the prospect of another long day reading to children who's parents thought I was a raving lunatic. Which was actually quite terrifying enough, thank you.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh, good gravy, this chapter was fun. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. (And, of course, I sqeezed in my little tribute to Envy. If you know not to which I refer, please check out the loverly little link in my profile. Trust me, it's quite worth it.)

And no, I'm not telling any of you whether or not Jareth was being a naughty boy and watching Sarah's bath. (Because let's face it, we all know the answer.)

A big squeezy hug to all my reviewers! Thanks a million, dolls. Furry pickles for all. (...Er, perhaps not. I don't want to run you off...) Reviews are cool!

**Fyreheart: **Thank you, darling! Goodness, I do love flattery.

**Lov2catnap: ***Bows* You're too gracious, darling. But please, feel free to continue.

**Natsuko37:** *Joins in the Righteous Rally* I'm so glad you enjoyed the verbal flaying he recieved! I felt quite justified writing it. I'd also had Sarah socking him in the face, but I thought it may be taking my little daydream of what I'd like to do to _my_ boss a little too far, haha. (And sadly, no, Sarah's bustier is still missing. I have a sneaking suspicion Skeep may have ran off with it...)

**Notwritten:** How could I not with such a delightful array of goblins at my fingertips?

**Athena's Avatar: **Thank you! I do hope I continue to meet your standards. Feel free to slap me with the nearest blunt object if I become droll and unbearable. (Though please warn me first, I need to save whatever brain cells I have left.)

**Leannapotter:** Oh, good heavens, that would mean Jareth is running around pantsless... pardon me a moment, just remembered I left the oven on... *Dashes of to claim pantsless Jareth before he gets mobbed (Or finds his pants)*

**LDeetz:** Oh, poor pet. That sounds awful. Glad I was able to amuse you, after such a similarly traumatic experience, and please extend my warm wishes to Charm the Cat. (*Domino perks up*_ Cat?_ Oh, dear. Charm should probably run now.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Well, it looks like I'm still in no shape or form owner of even the tiniest part of Labyrinth, because the fraggen goblins mixed up "put in a good word" with "do the magic dance in a cheese shop and blame it on Bon-Bon", so it's going to be taking a bit longer than predicted.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

When I woke up, I decided it was going to be a good day.

I was not going to let the probability of being sneered at and talked about behind my back all day dampen my spirits, and I was not going to worry about what sort of destructive, chaotic mischief the goblins were going to get into during my absence, and I was _not_ going to stress myself over what receiving gifts from the long-absent Jareth meant.

_Not_ going to stress.

_Not._

Unfortunately, my brain wasn't cooperating with me, and I found myself looking over my shoulder at every little noise to see if I was suddenly being followed by the Goblin King. During Domino's morning walk, I jumped four times at the cracking of twigs and the like, whirled around in the surety that the twisted shadow next to me was being cast from a wild-haired blonde no less than twice, and _gasped_, like a teen in a b-line horror movie, a full five times.

It was getting a little ridiculous.

I mean, it wasn't like I _wanted_ him to show up, or anything - especially after the Brown Suit Incident, I wasn't sure my wardrobe could bear the shame of being so hopelessly outclassed - but it just seemed logical that after sending me two gifts (or three, if the bath leaves were separate - I wondered if I should I include that in my return thank-you, whenever I sent it?) he would put in an appearance, to gloat if nothing else. It felt like teasing that he hadn't popped up to demand why my firstborn child hadn't been sent in thanks.

_Hah. Alright, bad analogy. _I smirked as I ran a brush through my hair.

_I wish the Goblin King would quit playing games with me and do something, __**right now**__,_ I thought wryly, tossing a sidelong glance at my bathroom counter as I set my brush down and left.

Shaking my head, I firmly told myself to focus on today, I could be paranoid about my safety from baby-snatching fairy kings later, and got ready for another day in Hell.

Pondering over whether to wear my marshmallow-esque winter parka or my red woolen overcoat, I flipped on the television to a local channel that broadcasted the weather forecast every ten minutes or so to see if Old Man Winter planned on rearing his ugly, frostbitten head again tonight.

It was on some segment about a paragliding hamster or something, so I turned up the volume and moseyed over to make myself breakfast while I waited. I'd just gotten down the sugar-ridden puff-balls that passed for a 'nutritious breakfast' when I heard that cheesy music I now related to all things awful and embarrassing. Whipping back to look at the T.V., I saw a young girl, no older than six or seven, with a gaudy pink microphone standing in front of a reel replaying the horror fest from the other day. Apparently it was time for the 'Kid's View' news bit, and it only played a short clip of me on the floor, surrounded by discarded puppets and draped in energetic children, before shrinking to a small corner in the left side of the screen as the little girl continued talking. My jaw dropped. Really? _Honestly?_ They couldn't find _anything_ better to use as filler than the local children's author crashing and burning?

Well… I suppose when it was put that way…

I squared my shoulders. This was ludicrous. They couldn't just broadcast that awful, mortifying segment whenever they felt like it! There had to be an airing limit. I turned and snatched up my phone, angrily punching in the publisher's number with every intention of telling that arrogant son-of-an-aardvark Garner _exactly_ where he could shove his little program, my brain whirling with all sorts of cutting, legeritous phrases. On the third ring, however, I glanced back at the T.V. and saw, much to my horror, they were now playing home-video-like footage of me.

While I was chewing out Garner.

I hastily hung up and gaped at the scene before me, an acute feeling of dread settling in my stomach. I couldn't believe someone had taped that. How outrageously invasive.

And how in Hoggle's name was I supposed to face all those people now? What if _he_ was there today? (Alright, that was a silly thought - after the Fiasco, there was no reason for him to be there, but still.) If I had been reluctant to go back to the book store before, it was nothing to the abhorrence in which I now held the idea.

Though, I noted dimly, I did look quite terrifying. Old Blue Eyes was quite obviously (and understandably) in fear for his life and possibly his family jewels. A tiny thread of pride wove into my tapestry of self-pity. I really told him off, didn't I?

I watched as my past self shot the unseen camera an intimidating glare, and stormed out. The pride-string was joined by another as I noticed my dark green pantsuit looked quite flattering on camera, and caused my furious eyes to glow with a feral light.

A niggling little memory bobbed about in the back of my mind from last night - how inhuman and gloriously terrible I had looked after my bubble bath. I shook my head clear of the image - it had been a trick of the candlelight, really, it was nothing to get chills over - and focused back on the T.V. just in time to catch the interviews with mothers and reading attendees.

Oh, joy.

"…Honestly, such language in front of the children. And it isn't as though she had any grounds to go on."

"Oh, I _know_, did you see the complete lack of experience when she dealt with those kids?"

"…_Very_ unprofessional. It's easy to see why she writes books for _juveniles_."

"…Thank goodness they changed her out of that awful green outfit - she looked like she'd just gotten in from working the streets!"

I scowled. Sure, the suit had flattered my figure, but it was far from indecent. I told myself that the frumpy mother-of-goodness-knew-how-many-brats was just jealous of my figure. And I almost sort of believed it.

"Obviously, she wasn't the _first_ choice for this sort of thing, but I heard she was all they could get…"

I'd had enough. Turning off the television and the parade of waspish mothers, I returned the cereal box to the cabinet (suddenly, I'd lost my appetite) and resumed getting ready for the reading. I was _not_ going to let those women keep me from fulfilling my contract and being a professional.

Even if I did want to go dump dish soap in their gas tanks and cover their cars in bologna.

* * *

_Alright, Sarah, _I schooled myself as I pulled into the book store's parking lot, _just don't threaten to skin someone's mother and all will be fine. Be Zen._ I tried to force my features into an open, friendly smile, but didn't look in the rearview mirror out of fear my expression would be drastically mangled.

I was simultaneously dreading and eagerly looking forward to today - while it was yet one more opportunity for the snarky, sharp-fanged mothers to flay another strip of pride from my diminishing ego, it was also my last day.

_Last Day._

I could practically hear the Hallelujah Chorus now.

After this torture session, I would be utterly free from humanity (aside from the little detail that I relied on them to buy my crazy little books in order to survive) and I would have made enough money to allow plenty of time for my self esteem to make a (relatively) full recovery.

Forcibly bolstering my spirits, I told myself that if all else failed, I could always just burn my house down, fake my own death, and move to Switzerland, where perhaps people were more reasonable and even if I couldn't write, I could always learn how to raise sheep.

Envisioning a nice, quiet, simple life raising sheep far away from all sardonic mums and irresponsible, arrogant bosses, I strode confidently through the door.

Unfortunately, I found myself face to face with Blue Eyes.

I let out a sound that was distressingly similar to a terrified squeak, and tried to pretend I was just a particularly mobile section of wallpaper.

_Oh-crappity-crap-crap. _Had he seen that horrid news blip? Was he still offended? Was he coming to tell me I'd never work in this town again and if I knew what was good for me I'd be gone before midnight?

I admitted my wallpaper-impression's failure as he gave me a disarming smile, tilting his head in what would have been an appealing manner were he not the Biggest Jerk On The Planet.

"Sarah," he greeted, and I instantly decided I didn't like the way he said my name. His confidence irritated me, and I felt my earlier temper returning.

"Past 'Miss Williams', now, are we?" I quipped, folding my arms defensively across my chest. I found that I no longer cared if he'd seen that stupid home-footage disaster. I wasn't sorry for anything I'd said, I had no intention of apologizing, and he could damn well go suck a fish if he thought he could intimidate me just because he had the power to ruin my career and dash all hopes for my future.

I get a little stupid when I'm mad, sometimes.

His smile faltered, and he looked away, distractedly rubbing the back of his neck -no longer the corporate big-wig. He was dressed in a polo and jeans, obviously not here on company business, and he didn't seem quite so intimidating out of his power suit. I reluctantly felt my spine soften a little at the endearing gesture.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I was unfair and negligent, and there's really no excuse for it," he said, and paused. "Well, there is, actually, but I rather doubt you'd find it adequate and I can perfectly understand why. My employees were rude and judgmental, and their criticisms were unjustified. And I'm sorry if I offended you when I offered to let another take your place if we were to do a regular show; it's just that you seemed so stressed I thought it would be a relief for you. I didn't expect you to be so… _enthusiastic _about it," he said, glancing at me. I fought down a blush and stood my ground, thrusting my chin out defiantly. I'd had every right to be _enthusiastic_ - I'd written the books, it was only fair that I should get to read them.

He sighed and moved his hand from his neck to his hair, roughly brushing his fingers through the thick, shiny mass. I focused quite deliberately on the tip of his nose.

"I can't take back anything that's already been said and done, but I wanted to apologize. Forgive me?" he finished, and gave me a pleading look with those big blue eyes. I tried to keep my righteous anger alight, but it ignored my efforts and melted away.

I rolled my eyes. "Stop it. I get puppy eyes enough from my dog, I don't need them from my boss," I said shortly, and gave him a small smile.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he grinned. "Of course." He winked. "But I'd much rather just be 'Jeff' than your boss," he said hopefully, and I felt my lips pulling into another involuntary smile. Even if he wasn't exactly my type, he was nice enough.

"Alright, Jeff," I allowed, and started walking past him. "It was nice talking to you again, but I have a reading to do, so…"

"Oh, yes. Permit me?" he asked, and promptly offered his arm. I chuckled and threaded my arm through his, letting him lead me towards my usual reading spot.

"So, I don't suppose you watch much local television, do you?" I asked nonchalantly, determinedly not glancing over at him.

"Not, not really. I don't watch much T.V. at all, to be honest, and hardly ever the local channels. I've found better ways to rot my brain," he joked, and I relaxed, laughing a little. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. That's a good philosophy, by the way. The local channels around here suck, I wouldn't watch any of them. Ever."

"They usually do. Besides, they've been playing this clip of some poor sap getting his ass handed to him by a reincarnated Goddess of Righteous Fury, and rumor has it that the guy looks a lot like me, so I figured it would be best for my ego if I stayed away from those sorts of channels, for the time being at least," he said easily, casting me a teasing sideways look. I felt my cheeks flame.

"Oh. So you did know about that."

He chuckled. "Yes, I did. And I must say, that the camera most certainly does not do your angry-face justice. You were far more terrifying in person," he said in a flattering voice, and I smirked.

"Thanks, I think." I released his arm as we reached the little pink plastic chair that served as my throne during reading sessions and studied him cautiously. "So, you aren't mad at me for yelling at you the other day?" I asked. He laughed.

"Not since I deserved it. Though, in the future, I will have to ask you to please only yell at me behind closed doors. We can always lock ourselves in a men's room if you feel the need," he said with a teasing glint in his eyes. Grinning back at him, I turned and picked up a book from the pile I was going to be reading today, and perched myself with as much regal dignity as is possible when sitting on something with orange ponies decorating the sides.

There were already children waiting on the rug - sitting cross-legged, stretched out on their tummies, cuddled up with enormous stuffed bears who had all seen better days - and as I watched, Jeff settled himself easily among them on the floor. The kids welcomed him in the easy, open manner that only the innocent possess, and soon he was equipped with his own stuffed animal (a faded blue bunny with matted ears), and was being used simultaneously as a chair, pillow, and drink-holder. I had to hand it to him, he was actually really good with the little guys. I smiled to myself as everyone settled down, the kids wiggling and squirming into more comfortable positions, and started reading when everyone was ready.

Jeff was a wonderful addition to my audience. He acted out bits of the stories, laughed in all the right places, and even covered his bunny's ears during a 'scary' part. The kids loved him, and I didn't even have to break out the puppets to keep them interested.

Not to mention, the sideline-dwelling mothers were too busy gawking and gossiping about the gorgeous blue-eyed hunk lounging on the floor with their offspring to do much ragging on me.

Afterwards, when most of the parents had left and I had helped the store employees clean up some, Jeff and I walked out to our cars. I huddled in my coat and fiddled with my keys as we stood on the sidewalk, exchanging goodbyes.

"Alright, well, I'll set up an appointment with my coworkers and we can discuss a deal with you," he said, and winked. "And I promise you'll be the first to know."

I smiled. "I'm holding you to that, mister. You leave me high and dry again and I'll sic my goblin friends on you," I joked, though, if he _did_ screw me over, I had every intention of loosing the little rascals on his pantry, sock drawers, and whatever valuable-looking items were lying about in his house.

He laughed, blissfully unaware of the possible danger to his personal belongings, and held his hand out. I slipped mine into his and gave it a firm shake, releasing to pull back quickly, but he kept his fingers tight around mine.

"I know I can't undo the past, but let me make it up to you. Do you like coffee?"

My smile turned forced. "Yes, I do, but I'm not sure I like coffee with my boss…" I said cautiously, and gently pulled against his grip. He let them go this time.

"Oh, come on, it's just a cup of coffee. Besides, eventually, we're going to have late night meetings over publishing discrepancies that will turn into early morning meetings, and everyone is going to be drinking coffee - with their bosses. You're just getting a head start. Call it practice," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I studied him critically for a moment, and relented, nodding against my better judgment.

"Alright, fine. One cup of coffee. But, I get to chose the place," I conditioned. No way was I going to get sucked into forcing down a crappy caffeinated beverage at some little hole-in-the-wall café. Jeff grinned.

"I'm fine with that. Should I follow you there, or did you want to ride with me?" he asked, gesturing behind him. I peeked around to see a sweet, sleek, midnight blue, black topped Dodge Challenger convertible.

My mouth watered.

"Ooooh," I managed. Jeff chuckled.

"1970, fully restored. She was my first car; my uncle gave her to me for my sixteenth birthday, and we rebuilt her together," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. I glanced up to see him smiling wistfully at it, and I smiled a little myself.

Walking toward her, I peered around to see the interior. Leather, it looked like. "Original Hemi engine?" I asked, admiring the majestic purple tape stripes that ran along the sides.

"Of course," he said, and I nearly melted on the spot. I would have _killed_ for a car like this on my sixteenth birthday. Hell, I'd still kill for one. I glanced back at my sad little Integra, and felt my spirits dampen. I knew I should take my own car, that taking his would make this seem like a date rather than two coworkers going out for coffee, but…

A 1970 with a _Hemi_…

I sighed. I had to take my Integra. Propriety before teenage dreams.

Keys suddenly swooped into my line of vision, dangling in front of my face.

"You could drive, if you like…"

I snatched the offered piece of heaven before he reconsidered and settled myself immediately behind the wheel.

Propriety be damned. I was driving a _Challenger_.

* * *

We made the fifteen minute drive to the coffee shop in a record-breaking seven minutes, and I was quite impressed that Jeff's face was only slightly bloodless, and he wobbled only vaguely as we walked into the coffee shop. I had deliberately taken the twisty back roads to test the Challenger's handling, and when I found it more than adequate, I poured on the speed.

_God_, I loved muscle cars.

Poor Jeff looked like he needed a shot of bourbon in his drink.

As we sat down at a little table, I slipped Jeff's keys surreptitiously into my coat pocket - I had every intention of driving on the way back. He was too distracted by the novelty of solid, unmoving ground beneath his feet to notice.

"So, I take it you were a stock car driver in your past life?" he asked conversationally. I laughed.

"Something like that," I said, smirking as he held onto his coffee as though it _were_ laced with liquor. "When I was younger, my dad and I went to a lot of car shows. Some of the guys took a liking to the spunky sixteen year old and taught me how to drive like a pro," I said. Jeff quirked an eyebrow. I grinned and told him about my driving lessons.

After my trip to the Underground, I conformed to the image of the 'perfect daughter' - I played with and doted incessantly on my little brother, I did the dishes and vacuumed and dusted without being asked, and I spent the weekends with my dad, doing the whole 'bonding' thing. It just so happened that my dad liked old cars.

At first, I was bored senseless. Who cared about gears and axels and torque? The only thing that interested me about cars were the cute boys driving them, and even then, I was only sparkly-eyed for the blondes. But after my first car show, where I realized how a well-built machine could make the ground tremble and the blood pound in your ears, I was hooked.

My first driving lesson was behind the wheel of an 86 Camaro, candy apple red, with black racing stripes. My dad was ecstatic that I had developed such a passion for his pastimes, and during the remainder of my teenage years, I learned how to handle everything from a sleek little crotch rocket to an F150.

Karen was terrified. I was supposed to be playing with makeup and trying on pretty dresses, not drooling over El Caminos in car magazines.

Dad was terrified of the boys I was attracting. It turned out that teenage boys _liked_ a pretty girl who could talk cars. Unfortunately for them, they didn't _have_ the cars, and therefore fell under my radar.

Over recent years, my infatuation with cars of an age gone by had waned, but the underlying appreciation still flared up when I was confronted with a specimen like Jeff's.

After exchanging mildly amusing teenager-behind-the-wheel stories for a bit, Jeff and I made our way back to his car, me still with the keys in my possession - and no intentions of relinquishing them.

Jeff, silly man, seemed to have the laughable idea that I would be letting _him_ drive.

"But, it's been so long since I've driven such a beautiful machine, and you get to drive her all the time…" I pleaded, doing my absolute best to look pitiable and irresistibly cute. Jeff looked desperately between my best efforts at a puppy-face and the hunk of metal that would soon become a torpedo of speeding doom, a sickly terrified look of resignation in his eyes.

I danced a little inside.

"Alright, _fine_, but-"

I whooped, leaping in the air and dashing to the driver's door.

"-please, _please_, keep under the speed limit…" he begged, reluctantly settling himself in the passenger side.

"Sure, whatever you say," I replied flippantly, revving the engine a little before putting her in gear. I nearly melted at the rumbling purr of power beneath me.

I did keep to the speed limit most of the way (mainly because there was a police cruiser following diligently behind me for over half the damn drive), and Jeff managed to actually keep up a running monologue for the ride, detailing humorous anecdotes about the life of a publishing guru. We parted ways back at the bookstore with another handshake (Jeff looked a little disappointed, but it takes more than coffee and a mouth-wateringly gorgeous car to get a goodnight kiss out of me, pal), and I decided that all in all, today had definitely not been a bad day.

* * *

"Of all the _ungrateful_-" Jareth hurled another crystal at a wall, shattering it with such force that the glitter rebounded at least ten feet in all directions. He'd just looked in on Sarah, to see if she was maybe fondling his rose again, or weaving several of his lavender-scented leaves into her hair (he was certain they would look quite attractive strewn through the dark locks, rather like the style she'd had in his ballroom, perhaps), when he saw her _laughing_ with some _arrogant_, irritatingly _average_, human.

He was sending her priceless gifts, and she was shunning his attentions for some addle-brained, matching-eyed, drooling _mortal_, who probably couldn't tell a crystal from a Christmas ornament.

He roared in frustration and whirled around, whipping his riding crop, bi-colored eyes flashing.

Every creature in the entire Goblin City froze in their tracks, paralyzed with the sudden, irrevocable conviction that something Very Not Fun was about to happen to anyone within throwing distance of the King.

There was an earsplitting _crack_, and suddenly the large arced window to the King's throne room expelled a burst of feathers.

"_**And all these BLOODY CHICKENS!**__"_ bellowed a furious voice, and several naked members of the aforementioned poultry family found themselves flung from the window in a high-swept arc that would land them squarely in the bog.

"Not a good day to be a chicken," said a small, winged, vulture-like goblin to a blue-haired worm.

"That's right. Very glad me and the missus are worms. Care for a cup of tea?" it asked, blinking happily.

"Don't mind if I do," the vulture agreed, completely oblivious to the utterly terrified panic every other inhabitant of the Labyrinth had fallen into.

In a moment of shared inspiration, all the fear-ridden creatures thought two words, and simultaneously disappeared with a single destination.

_Lady Sarah._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:** Oh, dear. I seem to have accidentally gotten trapped in that time-space continuum in my closet again, and a month has passed me by since my last update! How careless of me. I fully understand (even if I do not endorse) if you need to throw sharp objects and cutting, legeritous phrases at me. And for all those who have not seen the announcement in my profile (which I know is probably most of you - I hardly ever check profiles unless I'm hopelessly obsessed with the author), I would like to let everyone know that I am in the Market For A Beta. I tried the whole 'Beta-Shopping' thing offered here, but it had less than desireable outcomes, and I have decided that perhaps it would be more effective to find someone who is actually _interested_ in reading the story. So, if this sounds like your cup of tea, check out my profile for details and send me a message. Or crystal, whatever's handy.

**Gilraen R. Luinwe:** Lol, thank you! And I promise, next chapter, Jareth will be doing quite a bit, and I fully intend to use his a-s-s as much as possible.

**leannapotter: ***claps hands* CAMERA! Why didn't I think of that? Lol. Glad you enjoyed, darling, and I wish you a speedy recovery. Ruptured organs and collapsed lungs are never pleasant.

**luv2catnap:** Oh, stop it, I'm blushing. ^.^ Sorry I kept you waiting so long for the next one!

**Natsuko37:** Ah, money. Simultaneously the bane and core of my existence. Why can't I just get paid for being a fangirl? It's a full-time job. (I have noticed that my hot pink eyeshadow has gone missing, and I suspect a certain crossdressing goblin is behind it. I sincerly hope his interference is a prelude to a wounded Goblin King showing up while I'm in my bathrobe, but I have a feeling I'm not that lucky. )

**hotdancer21:** Kudos are always welcome.

**xEvilAngel56x: **Glad I was able to brighten your day, love.

**Athena's Avatar:** I imagine they will be overjoyed at all the pretty new things for them to destroy, lol. (Hmm, that's an idea... I think he may. I can forsee all sorts of chaos ensuing.)

**J. Luc Pitard: **Both! (Suprisingly, the furry pickles are kinda cute. ...in an I'd-like-a-sanitation-suit-before-I-touch-them sort of way)

**LDeetz: **Lol There's no way the plot fairies would let me off that easy, darling. Rest easy, plenty more to come.

**NotWritten:** *Big Smile* Thank you, darling.

**FaeriesMidwife: **Hmm. I am a bit of a parenthetical fiend, aren't I?


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I have offically given up hope on owning any part of Labyrinth. I was doing a bit of interpretiv-dance-negotiation with the Fire Gang, when I was accosted by a bunch of angry men in suits. It seems that Henson's ghost has come back and is threatening me with a lawsuit that will literally haunt me unto death if I do not quit pestering his goblins, so I must content myself with just messing around with his creations behind his back. (Though, since he is a ghost, and therefore transparent, I suppose that's sort of fruitless, isn't it?)

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Jeff was heading towards the 'friend zone'.

He could see it coming a mile off, his path lined with flashing neon lights proclaiming '_Do Something, Idiot!'_ and bright red foam fingers making the universal _loser_ gesture at him.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, he stopped for a red light and scowled at the cars he was being forced to let pass him.

He had to stop this.

Ever since he'd seen Sarah, in all her caked on stage make-up and that wrinkly, frumpy brown suit, on the edge of a nervous breakdown but still so _vibrant_, he couldn't get her out of his head. There was something… _compelling_ about her, something that called to the forgotten part of the human psyche that caged the inner child, and reminded you that there used to be _more_ than this. She was youth and verve and energy in corporeal form, and her company was addicting.

He'd tried being charming, and funny, and sweet - hell, he'd let her drive his _car _- but she wasn't responding correctly. She'd given him a damn _handshake_ tonight - he'd at _least_ expected a hug.

The light turned green, and he pressed the gas pedal, his car leaping to respond. The rumble of the engine brought back a flash from earlier - Sarah's wild green eyes, glowing and thrilled at the power in her hands; the curl of her hair as the wind blew her jasmine-and-honeysuckle scent past him - and he frowned down at himself.

"Now that's completely uncalled for, pal," he told his pants, chagrined at his libido's instantaneous response to such mild stimulation. Honestly, he wasn't a teenage boy with his first crush. He enjoyed the youthful effect Sarah's presence had on his personality, but this was _not_ a pleasant side-effect.

He sighed. There was no way he could tolerate being 'just friends' with Sarah. Immediate actions to avoid his current course were necessary.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open, dialing a number without looking and pressing his wireless headset button.

"_Information, how can I help you."_

"Yes, may I have the address for Sarah Williams?"

* * *

_Not gonna panic, not gonna panic,_ I chanted to myself, watching in horrified wonderment as my entire apartment was overrun by goblins, brownies, fairies, dwarves, mutated fetus-like things on sticks, and bits of fireys.

_What, did the whole damn Labyrinth dump it's contents in my living room?_ I thought frantically as several goblins wobbled past me, being pursued by a detached furry orange foot. I could feel my resolution to keep calm rapidly failing - I needed information and a plan, fast.

Wading as quickly as possible through the throng encasing my sofa, I searched for someone familiar - I'd never realized how many goblins I _didn't_ know - and caught a flash of a once-owned coffee mug.

Reaching down, I plucked Dizz out of the crowd and swept him into my arms.

"Lady Sarah!" he cried happily, throwing himself around my neck. "Hail her Tallness!"

"Wait, no, _don't_ hail-" I pleaded - if twelve goblins hailing me was loud, all these creatures would be deafening -

"HAIL HER TALLNESS!"

"HAIL, HAIL, HAIL-"

I winced as my eardrums were assaulted, and prayed the entire apartment building had decided to either go out tonight or wear their earplugs.

"Guys, _quiet_-"

_BANG BANG BANG_

Everyone instantaneously froze as the inhabitant of the apartment below me expressed his displeasure through his ceiling. An extremely feral, growling roar echoed up through the air ducts.

"See, now you've gone and woken up the evil bear-man," I said. Roughly half of the goblins gasped in horror.

"Not the bear-man," Dizz shivered, curling himself against my chest in a defensive ball. Mass chaos descended over my apartment as everyone began wheeling around and running in terrified circles, crying and squeaking and whimpering.

"Wait, wait! Guys! Remember what I taught you - _Play Dead!_" I yelled over the din, and sagged in relief as those who had survived previous encounters with the evil bear-man collapsed as though struck with sudden (and absolute) paralysis, and their less experienced companions wisely followed suit.

"Alright, you all stay here, and I'll take care of this," I assured them, gently setting a limp Dizz down on a few of his more comfortable-looking brethren, and tip-toeing my way carefully to the door. "And remember - dead things are quiet, so no talking."

I closed my door behind me and sighed, rubbing my hands roughly over my face, before setting off to placate my irate neighbor.

* * *

Jeff stared hopelessly at the slip of paper in his hand bearing Sarah's apartment number, to the door in front of him that did _not_ bear her apartment number.

This building was a freakin labyrinth.

The numbers seemed to utterly disregard numerical order and just popped up wherever they wished - 203 was adjacent to 175, and across the hall was 422 - and the halls and corridors twisted and turned in ways that seemed quite improbable and unlikely to be using the full available space in the layout. There was absolutely _no_ sense to it…

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down the long hallway with a lost expression. Retracing his footsteps, he returned to the stairwell and decided to try his luck on the next floor. He clumped up the rickety metal staircase, hoping he wouldn't have to ruin his surprise by breaking down and calling Sarah to ask her where her damn apartment was.

As he approached the door leading to the third floor, however, he thought he could hear a distinctly familiar feminine voice…

* * *

"**This continuing ruckus is unacceptable, Miss Williams**," rumbled the enormous, intimidating man standing irritably before me. He had a voice that could shake mountains. I imagined in a past life, he had been a fierce warrior on a bloody battlefield, wielding a great hammer or axe with expert ease and lethality. Displaced as he was in this century, he had to curb his murderous skills to simply frightening anyone within a ten foot radius out of their wits. I gave him a sheepish smile and batted my eyelashes, not that it did any good.

"I know, and I'm really, _really_ sorry, Mr. Bruin. They got into the cookies while I wasn't looking-"

"**Then you should keep a better eye on your charges. It's not fair to the rest of the building to have to put up with that unbearable uproar night and day because you're an inadequate babysitter,**" he growled, and that irrational little spark of stubbornness in me that scoffed at petty things like survival instinct and common sense flared up, telling me to put _him_ in charge of a Labyrinth's worth of fantasy beings and see how well _he_ handled it. I quickly stamped it out before it made me do something stupid, like challenge him to an arm-wrestling contest, and tried to look contrite.

"I really am sorry, and I promise it won't happen again," I said, and was quite proud of how sincere my voice sounded. Not even the barest trace of an irritated sneer.

"**Damn right, it won't, because I'm talking to the landlord first thing tomorrow. I'd start looking for a new place to live if I were you, Miss Williams. Perhaps something over a playground,**" he snapped, and shut the door in my slack-jawed face.

I continued gaping at the door for an interminable moment, my brain unable to quite comprehend what I had heard, until I heard a smooth velvet-and-chocolate voice beside me.

"You, ah, want that I should talk to him, Boss?" he asked in a fair imitation of a mafia accent, placing a warm, comforting hand on the small of my back and tilting his head at the closed door in front of us. I blinked at him.

"Jeff? What are you doing here?" I asked, purely curious, until I remembered that I had a house full of things that didn't exist right upstairs, and he probably wasn't here to stand outside and chat. I tried to swallow the panic that rose in my throat.

"Well, I was passing this little flower shop on the way home, and I thought to myself, 'You know, what's an apology without flowers?', so I dropped in and picked up these," he said, and produced a bouquet of colorful daises. I forced a smile at the gesture - I'd never approved of cutting flowers. Why kill something beautiful just to watch it die on your table? - but gingerly accepted them.

"I decided on daisies because I thought roses would be too forward," he said, eyes twinkling. "I was hoping they'd convince you to invite me up for tea, since we already had coffee."

"Oh, hah. That's funny. And I would, but I actually have to go, see, I'm babysitting a couple of rambunctious kids…" I trailed off, hoping he'd let me make a graceful escape.

"Oh, that's fine. I actually love kids, if you wanted a little hand - not that I'm suggesting you need it, or anything," he said hastily, casting a worried glance at the closed door to Mr. Bruin's apartment. I groped for another excuse.

"Well, actually, I just put them down for a nap, and I _really_ don't want to wake them back up," I lied, hoping against hope he'd just accept it and _leave_…

"Ah, I understand. I'll break out my ninja-quiet bunny slippers, then," he grinned with a cheeky wink. I laughed, maybe just a touch hysterically, and gestured vaguely.

"As fun as that sounds, I've got one in my bedroom and two on the pull-out in the living room, so…"

Jeff back up a pace, conceding defeat. "So maybe next time," he said with a small smile. I let out a relieved breath.

"Yes. Next time," I agreed, and gave his arm a companionable pat. "Thanks again for the flowers, Jeff," I said, and turned to hurry back to my apartment.

"Uhm, Sarah…?" I heard him call. I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could… uhm…" he blushed a little, and rubbed his neck uncomfortably. I tried to hide a grin - he looked like a ten-year-old boy trying to ask a girl to a dance.

"Yes?" I prompted, turning fully back around and cradling his flower offering in one arm.

"Would you show me the way back out of here? I took a couple of turns down a few hallways, and I'm not really sure how…" he looked around, vaguely lost and confused, and I gave him a sympathetic look.

"Sure. It can be a little confusing, at first," I told him, though I'd actually had no problems when I first moved here - everyone else in the building told me that _they_ had, however. Apparently, the winding halls and oddly-placed stairwells were a bit disorienting. I suppose after tromping around in an enchanted Labyrinth for thirteen hours, a few twisting hallways were a piece of cake in comparison.

"It's just that I can't make any sense of it! The numbers don't go in order, and the stairwells don't always lead just one floor up… it's like a maze, but there aren't any _clues_," he said frustratedly. I smiled.

"Well, lucky for you, I have an excellent sense of direction," I said, and went back, looping my arm through his to lead him. I glanced around at the doors as we walked back towards the nearest stairwell - what did he mean, the numbers didn't go in order? - and felt my stomach drop. The apartment numbers _were_ jumbled.

"Hm. Usually, the addresses are in order, though. Must be some young kids thinking they're funny again," I said, trying to convince myself it was indeed human meddling, rather than the result of a sudden spike in the building's fairy-tale creature population. I hoped that the building's foundation was sturdy and impervious to magical interference… I quickened my step a little. The sooner I could get back to my apartment and get everyone gone, the safer we'd all be.

Jeff made a non-committal noise in his throat in response to my excuse, as though he secretly suspected the building was purposely trying to confuse him. I smiled to myself as we descended a flight of stairs.

"So, are you going to be alright?" he asked a moment later, looking genuinely concerned. "I mean, that big, mean-looking guy back there, he said something about getting you evicted-"

I shook my head and tried to look carefree and unruffled. "Bah, he's just a big bully. He thinks he has a lot more sway with the landlord than he actually does," I told him, and tried very hard to believe it myself. Jeff looked unconvinced, if slightly mollified.

"Well, if anything comes up, and you need a character witness or something…" he offered, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze. I smiled at him.

"I'll know just who to call. Thanks, again," I replied, and opened the door leading outside. I shivered briefly as the chill air weaved through my clothes and brushed against my collar.

Jeff hesitated for a moment, fixing me with a look that had been ingrained in my mind as a look to avoid at all costs, and my heart skipped a beat. _No, dammit_.

I hastily gave him a one-armed 'bro-hug' and a quick 'bye!', and high-tailed it back inside, hoping he'd take the hint and get rid of that damn look in his eye. I hated telling guys that had taken an unreciprocated interest in me that, sorry, you're just not quite interesting enough to hold my attention, better luck next time. I was _really_ hoping to avoid that conversation with my boss…

I dashed back upstairs, banking on Jeff's inability to navigate my building to keep him from a second attempt, and focused my attention on bringing order to the Labyrinthine madness that awaited me upstairs.

* * *

Jareth had discovered the joys of interior decorating.

The castle beyond the Goblin City fairly glimmered in the russet light of the setting sun, it's fortress-like walls shining like dragon scales; elegantly elaborate banners streaming from the erratically twisting spires, and rich velvet drapes adorned the high, arched windows. It was a majestic sight, certainly at odds with the Goblin-esque city below it.

But the awe-inspiring, imposing outside view was nothing compared to the inside. The high ceilings dripped with floating, flickering candles; the walls were clean and hung with intricate tapestries of gold and midnight blue and royal purple; rich wine-colored rugs ran the length of every hallway, and ornate candelabras took the place of the iron torches lighting the walls. Disturbingly realistic motifs of goblins, fairies, and other of the Labyrinth subjects detailed the doorframes, and intimidating gargoyle faces held large, heavy brass knocking rings on most doors.

The King stood at a juncture to the three favorite rooms in his castle (his bedroom, his ballroom, and his throne room), and satisfiedly rested his hands on his hips, his high-collared leather jacket and wild, silver-streaked hair cutting an infallibly regal figure.

After redecorating his throne room in response to Sarah's off-handed chicken comment, he'd found that it was really quite soothing to make the areas around him match his own innate style and flair. The goblins grated significantly less on his nerves when he was surrounded by the trappings of royalty.

He frowned. Speaking of goblins, he actually hadn't seen _any_ for some time. That was unusual, and therefore worrisome. The goblins should never be left alone for any significant amount of time…

"You," he sharply addressed a nearby doorknocker with a large ring hanging from it's nose. "Have you seen any goblins lately?"

It sniffled in a vaguely disrespectful manner and mumbled something unintelligible, but snippy-sounding, in a nasally voice. Jareth growled and seized the ring, giving it a sharp warning tug, and leveled an authoritative look at it.

"Pardon, I didn't hear you," he said evenly as the knocker snuffled and squawked affrontedly.

"Whot I said, wos, 'No, Majesty, 'aven't seen any'uv yoor loyal cretins for a good 'alf hour, since yoo gone an thrown yoor 'issy-fit.' An mayby it ain't none'uv my business, me jus bein a knocker an all, but I'd be lookin to them more flammable parts'a my Labyrinth, f'I wos yoo," it snapped, and tried to scrunch it's nose uncomfortably. Jareth looked vaguely alarmed.

"What have you heard?" he demanded, shaking the ring again and ignoring the undignified complaints of his captive. "Is there some sort of plot against my Labyrinth?"

"No, there ain't no plot, yoo paranoid twit, jus a bunch'a goblins runnin 'round un-soopervized, wif nothin better ta do than mess up stuff an' set fire to fings whot ought not be burnin," it retorted, and gave a great sniff. "An in fanks for 'elping, I'd be much obliged if'n yoo'd take dis fannging ring out my nose!"

Releasing the ring with an irritable sneer of disgust, Jareth waved his hand carelessly and the knocker suddenly found that the ring was now gone, and it's nose blissfully unclogged.

"Oh, thank you, Majesty, I 'aven't been able to properly smell anyfing in _decades_-"

"Yes, yes," he said shortly, and gave the ugly brass face an appraising look. "Hm. You aren't much good as a doorknocker now, though, are you?" he said, and tapped a gloved finger against his lips thoughtfully. Suddenly he snapped, smiling brightly. "Ah! I've just the thing," he said, and waved his hand again.

The place where the door had been abruptly vanished, and was replaced by a high archway hung with several layers of sheer curtains in varying shades of gold.

"Never let it be said that I am not generous," he smirked, and took to his owl form, flying out through a nearby window in search of his missing subjects and hoping that nothing important was on fire.

* * *

The doorknocker with the newly liberated nose inhaled deeply again, not paying any attention to the silly-haired fop in front of him as he driveled on about something inconsequential. He could _breathe!_ He could _smell!_ What a wonderful day! And it seemed that after having spent so long without his sense of smell, it was unusually sharp - he could detect a faint odor of metal from the fop, and the dusty smell of feathers and the musty, corn-like smell of far-off poultry, and-

Smiling ecstatically, he took another gulp of air - and nearly choked as a truly horrible stench invaded his olfactory system. Looking around in frantic dismay, he saw that he was indeed where he thought.

The former doorknocker was now a tree-guard in the Bog of Eternal Stench.

* * *

I opened my door and was unsurprised to find that the goblins were extremely bad at playing dead.

At present, there were three goblins trying to climb my curtains, where two of their more successful brethren were already perched; a large group of twinkling fairies were struggling to fly with my jewelry draped around their tiny bodies while being chased by jealous dwarves; a group of those weird, angry-dead-baby-with-fangs looking things were gnawing on my television remote, my doors, my doorframes, my kitchen faucet, and more or less anything else I had previously thought relatively immune to harm, and doing significant damage. Several other goblins and brownies had made a game out of positioning the bunny-ear antennae on my T.V. set, and there were suspicious crunchy sounds coming from my pantry.

I put a hand to my forehead, trying to stave off the tension headache I felt forming, and sighed in frustration as several goblins ran past me, screaming muffledly, encased in socks.

Looking around frantically, I tried to locate Domino, my sock-guardian, and found him besieged by several dwarves who were trying to turn him into a pony-ride, despite the fact that he was quite obviously unhappy about it. I rushed forward as he growled menacingly, before I wound up with damaged dwarf parts flying about.

"Hey, this is my _dog_, not a joy ride," I reprimanded the dwarves - weren't they supposed to be among the more _intelligent _races in the Labyrinth? - as I pulled them off.

"Shows what _you_ know," they sniggered, and waddled off to find something else to make miserable.

Having been freed from his tormentors, Domino snuggled against my legs and chuffed happily, licking my hands in greeting.

"Oh, my goodness, what is going _on _here, Mister Puppy?" I groaned, looking around at the mayhem in my apartment. He snorted and shook his head, glowering at the creatures around him.

Sighing, I put my hands on my hips. There was only one thing for it.

Bringing two fingers to my lips, I gave a shrill whistle so loud it probably incurred the jealousy of every bird in a three mile radius.

Every single being in my apartment immediately snapped to attention and saluted (a nifty little reaction I'd discovered accidentally), which unfortunately resulted in most of them elbowing each other, stepping on toes, or falling over and ramming each other in the face or other sensitive body parts.

"My spleen-"

"Mmph-"

"Oooow-"

"My liver-"

"Bur foob ib im my mowf-"

"…My addendums…" someone squeaked, and everyone turned.

"Ooooooh," they groaned sympathetically, and patted his head.

I picked the little guy up and cradled him. It was Ziggy, a cross-eyed little goblin who had an unfortunate infatuation with the Goblin King's crystals. "Come on, I'll get you some ice," I told him, and he looked up at me with cockeyed adoration.

"My hero," he said, his tone unusually high-pitched. I gave him a pitying kiss.

"Alright, everybody who's in pain meet in the kitchen," I commanded, and more or less everyone weaved and wobbled their way after me as I walked to the fridge.

Pulling out my icebox, I grabbed a roll of paper towels and a box of sandwich baggies and set about making cold compresses for everyone. There were bumps and bruises ranging from elbows to foreheads to earlobes, and by the end of it I had a total of three ice cubes left. I shrugged and gave them to Mister Puppy, who chomped on them happily.

I looked around at the battered group as I replaced the icebox, and put my hands on my hips.

"Alright, so who's going to tell me what's going on, here?" I demanded.

* * *

As Jareth soared over his kingdom, he grew increasingly worried.

There were no goblins _anywhere_, or any other species of his bothersome subjects that he could see.

This was extremely distressing.

After winging around at random for a bit, trying in vain to spot someone, _anyone_, and failing, he wheeled back towards his castle and tried to smother the odd, twisty-clenching feeling in his stomach.

He knew where they were.

The Labyrinth fed off of magic, off of the magic of those around it, and needed to be inhabited to survive. Without anyone in it…

Of course, the effects would take time to show. At present, the Labyrinth was in all likelihood just fine. Things wouldn't start to deteriorate for two weeks, at least. But there was no sense in waiting for the inevitable to happen when he could fix the situation now, however much he had hoped to delay the resolution.

Shedding his feathered form, he stepped lightly onto a window ledge and turned, looking out a his barren kingdom.

He sighed. He'd intended to go see Sarah, he really had, he just hadn't decided _when_, exactly. The wooing of Sarah would be a delicate matter, requiring the utmost skill and fineness - he had no intentions of botching what would in all probability be his last chance with an accidental trip to the bog, or a loss of temper resulting in a chase down a dead-end tunnel with the Cleaners.

He grimaced, and rubbed his temples gingerly at the memory. That had been a supremely unfortunate lapse in judgment. But really, she'd outright _insulted_ his _Labyrinth_. Who could blame him?

Heaving a sigh, he closed his eyes and summoned the energy and will to send himself Aboveground. He wasn't sure where exactly Sarah was at the moment (he'd been quite creative, he thought, in the spells he'd used to transport and rearrange the gifts he'd given her, sparing him the temptation that entering her house would have presented), but he supposed he could just follow the imprinted trail of his subjects to find her. It was a simple matter, and in minutes, he was standing in an absurdly crowded, tiny room, amid a gaggle of goblins with socks pulled down over their eyes.

Cocking an eyebrow, he carefully picked his way through them, not wanting to send up an alarm of any sort until he knew what sort of mental state Sarah was in, and leaned around the door frame.

Leaning around the doorframe of Sarah's kitchen, Jareth stifled a groan at the sight of her. He suddenly doubted the wisdom of this plan - it was highly unlikely he'd be able to keep the necessary distance for the amount of time he'd intended. Watching her through a small sphere of enchanted glass was _far_ different than seeing her standing there, her long legs encased in tight, low-slung jeans, a snug black turtleneck doing little to hide the shape of the body beneath it, and her lovely face, free of make-up and the bewildered disdain that usually marred her features in his presence.

Despite her certain annoyance at having her home overrun by his subjects, she looked quite calm and collected, obviously in control, as she tended to a horde of injured creatures gathered around her.

She was every inch a queen.

Stamping on the painfully intense yearning that sprung up in his chest, Jareth slid forward, grinning when she presented him with such a perfect opportunity. He leaned casually against a wall, knowing full well that the position caused his open-necked poet shirt to drape enticingly, and crossed his long, lean legs.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance here," he drawled.

* * *

**Author's Note:** YAY JARETH! *does the happy-Jareth-dance, which involves a good bit of wrist flicking, strutting, and sneering* So, this is a tiny bit shorter than usual...alright, like two pages shorter than usual, but it was just too good a spot to pass up. These things don't crop up every day, you know. It takes a lot of manipulating to get Jareth to do what I want. And just think! In the next chapter, there's going to be so much JS interaction your eyes will burst into clouds of ecstatic, fluffy glitter.

THANK YOU SO EFFING MUCH! for the reviews! i lovelove**lurve** reading them, it makes my day at least ten times better. Sometimes even eleven times better. And a great big double heaping of thanks to my Beta-But-Not, lov2catnap, for being so wonderful at putting up with me and patiently removing the evil from this chapter. All of your eyes would have exploded for a much different reason were it not for her help.

**Tsohg:** Thank you, darling! More is indeed forthcoming.

**TinkLuvr16:** Glad you enjoyed, m'dear, hope you liked this one too!

**Pinfeathers:** I know! . I squee whenever i read back over them.

**leannapotter:** Oh...well...that does sound like fun... (thank you for not getting it out!) GASP! I LOVE that movie! And Skinner should most assuredly have my fangirlbabies. . I feel like such a cool kid now.

**Gilraen R. Luinwe: **Alright, so there wasn't as much of Jareth's a-s-s as i promised, but it will be soon! Pinky-promise! And thank you! I actually love writing animals, it's one of my favortie parts to do.

**LDeetz:** I know! I had to keep mopping my face when I was looking up pictures to see what color I should make Jeff's car. (hmmmm..._that _sounds fun... *runs off to work into story*)

**Bright Lotus: **ME HUGGLES YOU! -ahem-, Yes, I appreciate your feedback. (^.^)

**Natsuko37:** Lol, well, now that you put it _that _way, I am rather curious...

**CoffeeKris:** Oh my goodness, I nearly cried when I read that! I was like "WHAT? but you said..." and then I read the rest and my bloodpressure returned to normal. lol! I'll try to dull it down a bit from now on, darling.

**Volpone:** ...I'm sorry, the image of Jareth's tight little tushie made me forget what my witty response was...

**J Luc Pitard:** *Snaps fingers* Blast! That would have worked much better... Oh well, next time... Thanks!

**lov2catnap: **Automated Message 203: We're sorry, the author is currently too busy worshipping the shrine she has built in your honor to reply. Please try back again in approximately 3 - and - 1 - half - hours.

**ZigBabe: **THANKS!

**NotWritten:** Thank you, darling! *Big Smile*


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: Alright, alright, you've got me. I don't own Labyrinth, Jareth, or the snippy doorknockers. Not even in part. I do, however, own a rather fuzzy pickle, and as I am an optimist, I am going to consider this a step in the right direction.

And, before we begin, let's give a big round of applause to the lovely Beta, lov2catnap!

***and the crowd goes wild!* haaaaaaaaaaaaaaa**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"_Perhaps I can be of assistance."_

My mind went blank as his words slid across my skin, like tendrils of hot silk, and I involuntarily imagined all the activities in which he could be of _assistance_.

For the first time in my life, I began to believe that a writer's imagination is not always a good thing.

_Jareth-is-in-my-kitchen-shit-what-now?!_, chanted the slightly panicky part of my mind, as it tried to regulate my ragged breathing and control my suddenly overactive salivation glands.

I heard the uninvited guests in my apartment give a collective '_Meep_!' of surprise and vanish, and I heard Domino growling in confusion, but my brain seemed to have short-circuited, due to an overload of impossibility. I was only aware of the fear-tinged liquid heat that seared down my spine as that familiar, elementally musical voice and the goose bumps it scattered along my arms. And as it faded, I realized I was gaping at him. I was standing in my kitchen, slack-jawed, feet wide, arms dangling limply, outright _gawking_ at the undeniably imposing, impressively regal, wild-haired man from my past as he leaned elegantly against my pantry door.

I doubt there has ever been a better impression of a goldfish.

He looked just like I remembered - all sharp angles and leonine grace, amusement-tempered contempt in every gesture, so utterly alien and striking.

He certainly did not look like the sort of man to squeal, in an entirely unmanly fashion, as Domino lunged at him.

***

Jareth decided he was quite pleased with Sarah's initial reaction. There was no open hostility, nothing sharp was thrown with malicious intent, and she hadn't run screaming from the sight of him.

In fact, remembering the infuriating phrases that tended to issue from that invitingly open mouth of hers, perhaps this stunned silence was a blessing.

It pleased him even more that upon his entrance, the Labyrinth's missing hellions had instantaneously fled, going back to their rightful place in his Labyrinth. Without their noisy, destructive interference, he was quite sure he could turn this unexpected hiccup in his plans into a beneficial event.

Until that ravenous, spotted beast attacked him.

Jareth had heard the growling, but dismissed it as one of the more feral creatures from his Labyrinth. After all, who would dare attack_ him_?

It wasn't until a missile of sharp fangs and salivating fury was hurling toward him, that he realized he was in danger.

Reflexively changing into an owl, he launched himself into the air -

And promptly ran into the low ceiling.

Plummeting back down several feet, he stuttered and hooted incoherently for a moment before he regained his senses and momentum. He heard Sarah shout a command to the beast, though it didn't seem to be listening, for no sooner had she spoken, than he felt an entirely unpleasant plucking sensation in his rear, as the fiend seized a mouthful of his beautiful tail feathers and savagely tore them out.

Squawking, he pumped his wings, gaining a few feet of altitude. This time, he carefully gauged the distance to the ceiling, - it was _far_ easier to fly in his spacious castle - as he flew toward the bedroom he had appeared in earlier.

The beast's paws thundered insistently behind him. He quickly swooped to perch on the tall dresser, and prepared to claw the bloody thing's eyes out at the first available opportunity.

This, however, proved to be unnecessary; as the maddened creature hurtled into the room, Sarah caught up with it and grasped it by its collar, and although the beast still dragged her a few steps, she managed to bring it to heel beside her, admonishing it sternly.

"Domino, that was completely uncalled for! He's a friend - well, not really a friend, but he isn't - well, actually he is kind of my enemy, but he's not a really _bad_ guy. I think." She paused, and Jareth tried to decide whether or not her view of him was a good thing. "Look, he wasn't doing any harm! Now, no more pulling out the feathers of harmless guests, Domino! Be a good boy, or I'll give you regular dog food tonight, like a normal pet, instead of leftovers," she threatened, and though the beast was no longer snarling with murderous rage, it certainly didn't seem content with the arrangement.

Shifting back into his usual appearance as she chastised the mongrel, Jareth irritably brushed off his shirt and fixed his improperly ruffled hair.

"What a perfectly horrid animal, Sarah. Why in the world would you keep such a vicious creature around?" he demanded, glaring at the restrained beast.

Sarah released the creature's collar, and, propping her hands on her hips defensively, leveled a disapproving look at him.

"He was just trying to protect me. It wasn't his fault you popped in looking like a predator," she snapped. She obviously did not view this statement as contradictory to her earlier reprimand in the slightest. Were his pride not so sore, he may have been tempted to smile.

Instead, he scoffed, "Indeed." He rolled his bi-colored eyes, "I was casually leaning; hardly an aggressive stance. Unless the beast thought I was more of a threat to your pantry than all the goblins that had already ravished it, the assault was utterly unprovoked," he argued, slanting a distasteful look at said attacker.

It was Sarah's turn to scoff at that. "Jareth, you probably look predatory in your _sleep_," she retorted, crossing her arms. The position did interesting things to certain parts of her anatomy, which in turn did interesting things to certain parts of _his_ anatomy, and he turned quickly to the mirror under the pretense of fixing his hair. "I'll bet you look like you're going to eat the photographer in all of your baby pictures," she continued.

"Unlikely. I disapprove of cannibalism," he said in a distracted tone, disregarding the fact that there _were_ no photographers in the Underground. He leaned close to his reflection and narrowed his eyes. Where was_… No! Why, that no good, rotten, sharp-fanged, vile __**beast! **_There was one… no two… _THREE _spiky wisps missing! Savagely ripped from his poor scalp; leaving rather large bald spots.

Outraged, he whirled about, with every intention of making that mutt pay tenfold for ruining his meticulously maintained hair.

***

I decided there must be something wrong with me.

During my previous encounters with Jareth, he had relentlessly mocked and taunted me, tossed live serpents at me, given me poisoned fruit, and altered my memory - and those were some of the _lesser_ grievances.

My mind whirled as I watched him lean towards my mirror, presenting a perfectly showcased backside and glimpses of a lean, defined chest in the mirror. Underneath a stomach-tingling physical appreciation, I felt only the vaguest twinges of fear, and I had a nagging suspicion it may actually just be acute excitement, masquerading as fear. Even as he spun around, eyes wide and alight with fury, it was only adrenaline and anticipation that fluttered in my stomach.

My legs braced themselves and my hands cocked on my hips, and I felt my chin lift in automatic defiance. I didn't know what his feathers were ruffled over, but I was more than ready to be annoyingly belligerent. _There was no cowering fifteen-year-old here __**this **__time, buster._

"That _animal_ has done me grievous damage, Sarah. Move aside," he commanded. I stepped further in front of Domino.

"Oh _please_, he plucked a couple of feathers. You did most of the damage to yourself, flying into my wall," I snapped, and felt a vindictive rush as the barb scraped against his inflated ego. His eyes narrowed to incensed slits, and he growled menacingly.

"_Look_," he snarled, pointing dramatically at his hair. It looked just as maniacal as always.

"Oh no, you can't pin that ridiculous hair-do of yours on my dog. It was an epic mess long before you got here," I protested, frowning. He looked slightly taken aback.

"My hair is not ridiculous," he objected. "Nor is it an 'epic mess'. It's in artful disarray," he said sharply, as though annoyed by my lack of aesthetic appreciation. I rolled my eyes.

"Right. And I suppose that filthy castle of yours has 'rustic appeal'?" I countered. An odd expression flitted across his angular features, too brief to identify, but it was quickly replaced with a haughty detached amusement that I was so used to.

"Given that your idea of displaying ornaments involves stowing them away in a _drawer_, you're opinion of my décor means very little to me," he said, cocking an eyebrow.

I felt a guilty flush heating my face. _I still hadn't told him thank you_, I thought, guiltily.

I crossed my arms defensively.

"Well, since you so thoughtfully broke into my house and went through my things to rectify the situation, I don't really feel the need to apologize," I snapped, and hurriedly plunged on, "And-the-bath-leaves-were-really-nice-thanks."

Jareth blinked at me.

"…You're welcome," he said, a little cautiously. I looked away and tightened my crossed arms.

"And the rose was really beautiful," I mumbled. "But really, it doesn't match with _any_ of my rooms, so you can't blame me for not immediately putting it on a little pedestal," I added hastily, my poor cheeks flaming brighter than I ever thought imaginable. "And it only _sort of _goes with the bathroom stuff."

I could practically hear his smirk. "How generous of you to tolerate its presence," he said, with a very thin undercurrent of sarcasm. I whipped my head up to shoot him a glare. Did he really have to taunt me after I had just thanked him?

I was less than pleased with the amused look on his face. However, I was a little too distracted by his sudden proximity to be too terribly worried over it. While I'd been averting my eyes, he had slipped up to a bare few inches in front of me, and I jumped a little in surprise.

"I'm glad you liked the gifts, Sarah," he said - purred, really - and though it was quite toasty in my apartment, I had to suppress a shiver. My face succumbed to even more brilliant shades of red - I was going to be creating new colors if this went on - and I suddenly realized that I was seriously considering finding out _exactly_ how tight those pants were.

I mentally slapped myself. _You will __**not**__ jump his bones, you will __**not**__ jump his bones!_

"I was going to send you a cheesecake or something, but I wasn't sure I could afford the postage," I forced myself to reply, and resumed the mental slapping. I had meant to say something _intelligent_.

Jareth's lips - _don't stare, don't stare _- twitched in amusement, and he leaned back slightly. It was a struggle not to sigh in relief.

"You could have simply made a wish, princess," he said. "You _do_ know your right words."

I cocked an eyebrow, though I'm sure it lacked the dramatic flair that Jareth's possessed brows lent the gesture.

"Alas, I'm fresh out of baby brothers to offer in thanks," I deadpanned, and Jareth's lips slid into an altogether unsettling smile that was completely inappropriate for a conversation about my brother. A dull heat kindled in my stomach, and my skin ached to know what it felt like to be pressed against that grin.

"Now, Sarah, you couldn't think of _anything_ else to offer me?" he said in a voice that could melt icecaps, and I could feel his eyes molding methodically over every inch of me. I suddenly felt like a steak on a platter, being slowly sautéed under his searing gaze.

I panicked, frantically trying to beat out the brushfire that was racing through my veins, and reached for my instinctive catchall defense - false bravado.

Smirking with a confidence I was most _definitely _not feeling, I let my hip sway out a little and adjusted my arms. "Well, I _was_ going to send you a set of cold iron handcuffs, but I thought it might be _too _kinky for you," I said airily, and watched his face sideways from under my lashes. I could practically see his last lines from ten years ago scrolling through his mind (_do as I say, and I will be your __**slave**_) as his eyes flashed, and I danced a little inside. _Take __**that**__, you poofy-haired, lecherous - _

Jareth made a low, unaccountably alluring, growling sound in his throat, and my internal victory dance abruptly ceased. He stepped smoothly toward me, and it didn't even cross my mind to back up.

"That would depend entirely on who was wearing them, precious thing," he said, and I had a sudden image of him, sheathed in black leather, clicking the circlets closed around my wrists with glove-protected fingers, and my heartbeat stuttered.

Jareth hovered in front of me, raising a leather-clad hand, the slick fabric inches from my neck; I could practically _feel_ his body heat through my sweater -

_CRASH! __**BOOM!**_

I jumped and swore, instinctively spinning towards the noise in my kitchen. I was too far in my bedroom to see what the commotion was, and as I started for the door, I turned my head to glance back at Jareth. I froze in place.

My bedroom was empty.

Growling, I stormed into my kitchen, fully intending to toss whichever goblin was currently ransacking my home out of the nearest window, just to see how invulnerable to harm they really were.

***

Tearing his shirt off and hurling it at his bed, Jareth started pacing furiously.

That had been _dangerous_.

"_Stupid impulsive hormone-addled __**fool,"**_ he berated himself, roughly pulling his gloves off with his teeth. His plans had gone horribly awry. His slow, easy seduction was falling apart - he'd been back in Sarah's company no more than ten minutes and he'd nearly _kissed_ her!

Granted, she certainly hadn't seemed adverse to the idea, but still.

He paused in his pacing, remembering how her flawless skin had flushed prettily, her chest heaving as he closed in, how she'd unconsciously tilted her head to allow him access to her neck… growling in frustration, he threw his gloves to join his discarded shirt. She wasn't even _here_ and he was a hopelessly agitated mess.

Absently conjuring a crystal, he idly danced it over his fingertips, sliding into a chair by the fireplace to try to calm his raging blood and evaluate his current situation.

It was obvious that Sarah was physically attracted to him, but then, he hadn't really doubted that. If he wished, he was certain he could easily begin a physical relationship with her. Unfortunately, he wanted more.

Though he would avidly deny it if confronted, Jareth had often thought of Sarah over the past years. During idle moments, he would fantasize about their meeting, what he would say, how he would move. Sometimes he tried to trick himself, and pretend he was actually planning out meetings for his various companions, but the mask they wore in his mind always hid Sarah.

Jareth was quite besotted with her.

_What a pathetic creature you are,_ he thought sardonically. _A king with all the power he could wish, but none over the only thing he wants._

And really, that was the issue. He wanted Sarah, wanted to possess her, consume her, wrap himself around her every nuance, and entertain every moment of her time. He wanted, no, _needed_ to be vital to her emotionally _and_ physically. His entire strategy was engineered to develop Sarah's feelings for him, but if his blasted pants kept getting in the way, it was going to wind up being nothing more than a sordid fling. He scowled down at the offending appendage.

This was going to be _far_ more difficult than he'd predicted.

***

Domino sat on my counter, nose down and ears drooped, trying his absolute best to look heart-wrenchingly pitiable, while my blender gave an unhealthy wheeze and shuddered erratically on the floor. A quivering coffee mug was peering down from its hiding place atop my cabinets, and a pair of orange horns poked out from under my kitchen table.

As I watched, my microwave set itself on defrost for ninety-seven minutes and eighty-three seconds, a feat I hadn't actually realized was possible, while my fan blades wobbled in a drunken manner and sparked half-heartedly. The hands of my wall clock spun crazily, counting time backwards, and there was a disheartening squishy-dripping noise coming from my refrigerator.

My throat worked as I swallowed the frustrated scream that was threatening to rip its way out. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to inner peace and all that crap.

I'll bet Buddha never had to deal with goblins.

"I hope, that when I open my eyes, there are still goblins in my apartment, because I am going to need a whole lot of _help _cleaning up this mess," I said loudly. And in addition to the two I already knew were in my kitchen, I heard several goblins give muffled squeaks of dismay from various other rooms, followed by the muted _pop_ of their departures.

I sighed. It would take forever to clean all this up. I shuddered at the thought, but I would much rather do it by myself this time. I'd had my fill of magical creatures for the day.

After helping Domino off the counter - Lord only knew how he'd gotten up there in the first place - I shooed him off to my room, where he had the decency to look properly ashamed of himself. It lasted for all of two minutes, and then he was back in the kitchen with me, begging for treats. I, of course, was stern and unyielding - I couldn't reward him for jumping on the counters and killing blenders, or he'd be doing it all the time.

I stood quite firm, a shining beacon of impervious authority. And only gave him two biscuits.

Rummaging under my sink for a flower-scented disinfectant to chase away the _Eau De'Stinky _thatlingered in the Goblin's wake, I tried to decide which would be a better cleaning CD to put in - Pat Benatar, or Joan Jett? _Maybe Chris Isaak… hmm, I wonder where that Bowie CD is… _I suddenly felt a gentle brush against the back of my leg that felt _distinctly_ like fingers. I cracked my head on the underside of my sink as I whipped around. Fully prepared to smash Jareth's face in if he was sneaking up on me and trying to cop a feel, I relaxed as I saw it was only a still slightly bow-legged Ziggy standing there.

"Ziggy, what are you doing here, hun?" I asked, firmly ignoring the fact that I had immediately assumed Jareth would be groping me - I had decided to forget everything that had happened in his presence until I was finished cleaning. Ziggy scuffed a foot against the floor and held up a rather germy-looking rag I recognized as one I had lost several months ago.

"I will help Lady Sarah clean," he answered, a little shyly, and I felt my severe irritation with all things Goblin ebbing away.

Smiling, I scooped him up into a hug.

"I think I'm going to write another book about you," I told him.

***

That had not gone as planned.

After staring alternately at the possessed building that he was positive had actively impeded his journey to Sarah's apartment, and the dull, darkening sky, Jeff had decided he must have done something really, really stupid in a past life, and now was being forced to suffer through his prior self's bad karma.

Contemplating the possible significance of Sarah's one-armed parting hug, he got into his beautiful car and started back home. He was suddenly feeling rather silly to have driven across town to bring a girl a bouquet of daisies in hopes for a cup of tea.

He should have gone with roses.

Once home, Jeff moped up to his front drive. Sulking, he went into his bedroom, and pulled off his shirt to change. Looking over at the full-length mirror behind his door, he tried to smile charmingly at his reflection, but only succeeded in looking like he was grimacing at a particularly disheartening sap.

Pouting, he walked closer to the mirror and put his hands on his hips.

Why hadn't Sarah kissed him?

He was attractive enough. Full head of glossy, dandruff free hair, a square jaw line, big do-me-now eyes, pleasantly muscled… there really was nothing to complain about in the visual department.

And he knew he was amusingly witty - women (and men, though less often and for different reasons) laughed at his jokes all the time. He could be engaging and charming, and he'd always known his efforts to elicit a positive response.

So what the _hell_ was up with Sarah?!

He was pouring on the McDreamy, and she was acting like…like…

And suddenly, it clicked.

She was interested in someone else.

"AURGH!" Jeff groaned, turning and flopping belly-up on his bed. It would be ten times harder to win Sarah over if she already thought she liked someone…

Growling in frustration, he glared at his strategically soothing-colored ceiling, and started to form a plan.

***

Glitter.

There was glitter _everywhere_.

It was embedded in my sofa, dusted over my counter tops, it was even in my _toothbrush_, for Hoggle's sake. And my _bedroom!_

I stood in the doorway, gawking in horror, as I took in the ridiculously copious amounts of the sparkly substance that saturated my room. It was like a twelve-year-old princess's dream come true.

Steeling my spine, I pulled the dusk mask down over my nose and mouth, and fired up the vacuum cleaner with grim determination.

Ziggy pulled the swimming goggles I had lent him down over his eyes, and turned on his little hand-held vacuum with imitated zest. Exchanging resolute nods, we gave twin battle cries and fell into my room, attacking the intruding sparkly-ness with extreme prejudice.

Once we were done, Ziggy and I lounged in my reasonably restored living room, sipping hot cocoa - mine enhanced with a bit of the Captain's best - and making fun of Jareth.

It was a tremendously satisfying pastime.

"And then he pranced around a little bit and said, 'Nothing? Nothing, tra la la?'" I quoted, lowering my voice in an attempt to imitate his masculine pitch. Ziggy laughed in an uproariously squeaky manner.

"OH! Today, King threw a tan-drum!" he exclaimed once he'd regained the ability to speak. I grinned excitedly.

"A tantrum?" I asked. "What did he do, bog a colony of fairies?"

"No! He stole all the chicken's feathers and threw the _chickens_ in the bog!" he said, and promptly began rolling around, clutching his sides as he screamed with mirth.

I laughed, more at the image of a flock of naked chickens soaring gracefully over Jareth's Labyrinth than at the damage to the chickens themselves, and moved Ziggy's mug of harm's way.

"Why? What did the chickens do?" I asked. He stopped rolling about long enough to reply.

"They was in his chair-room! No-body's allowed in King's chair-room no more, he says he jus' got it all pretty, and if us cretins ruin it, he'll hang up our noses as decoration," he said, apparently not at all bothered by the possible danger to his facial features.

"Oh! Well, that sounds reasonable," I said, and found that I was also strangely unbothered by the threat of mutilation. I suspected it was partially because I had come to believe that goblins were, more or less, indestructible, partially because I understood the devastating effects of goblins on a freshly cleaned room, and partially because I was on my third mug of spiked hot cocoa.

Ziggy shrugged. "We goes in anyways. 'Cept for No-Nose, cause King says if we don't got a nose to hang up, he'll take our ears, and No-Nose really likes his ears," he said.

I nodded.

"Yes, he does have nice ears," I replied thoughtfully. I turned around to set my mug on the table behind me, and when I looked back, all the lights in my apartment simultaneously flickered and went out. I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face. Couldn't the goblin fallout have happened on another night? One on which I _hadn't_ been drinking?

"Spooky," Ziggy said from somewhere to my left. I reached out a hand at what I assumed would be about goblin-shoulder-height and patted what I bumped into.

"It's alright, they'll come back on in a minute," _probably. I hope._

Of its own accord, my television popped on and started playing back the segment from Hell that I'd watched this morning when I woke up. The little reel at the bottom of the screen erroneously told me that the time was 9:21 A.M.

Apparently, my T.V. had decided it had TiVo.

I sighed heavily. "I had better be getting some serious royalties off of that thing," I mumbled.

Ziggy suddenly whipped around to gape at me.

"You is _royalties?"_ he gasped, and immediately clapped his hands. "You is Queen!"

I quickly shook my head. "No! No, not in that sense. I'm not _royalty,_ I'm collecting royal_ties_," I corrected. He frowned.

"So, you not Queen?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm not a queen," I said, and hauled myself up to go get a few flashlights. I hoped the batteries still worked - my earlier visitors had chewed the replacement packs to uselessness. There had been battery acid that looked like it had been licked off the floor surrounding the remains.

Trust goblins to find hazardous materials a tasty snack.

"See, royalties are something that you get when people use things you've created," I explained as I rummaged through my kitchen drawers. _Oh, there's that spare key…_ "For example, I write stories, and give them to a publishing firm. So when they sell them, I get sent money as payment. A-hah!" I exclaimed, holding up a pair of bright yellow flashlights. Returning to the living room, I handed one to a pondering Ziggy. I let him work out what I had said in his head for a minute and settled back down on the couch, placing my flashlight in the center of the table to illuminate the room.

"What's munny?" he asked finally. I smiled. Of course, goblins didn't have money. What would they use it for?

"Let's see… alright, when you want something that someone else has, like a hat or a shiny thing, you have to give them something in return, right?" I asked. He nodded. "Well, for humans, when we want something, we give people little coins and pieces of paper," I said. He looked a little confused.

"You trade paper?" he asked dubiously. "Is it pretty paper?"

I pulled a face. "Um, not really."

"Is it magic? Does it change shape?"

I shook my head, feeling sillier by the minute. "No, it's not magic in the least."

"Does it taste good?"

I laughed. "No, it doesn't taste good, either."

He frowned. "Munny does not sound fun. Why does you trade something stupid?" he asked, looking at me as though humans were some unfathomable creature with utterly pointless rituals. I rather agreed, most of the time.

I briefly considered trying to explain greed and the monetary system to a being who was used to trading polished pebbles for bouncing fur balls, and decided it would be futile.

"Humans are really weird," I answered. He nodded emphatically.

Looking back at the T.V., which was now showing my past self being trampled by children in slow-mo, Ziggy squinted sideways at me, which was really quite impressive for someone as thoroughly cross-eyed as him.

"You gets munny for that?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yup. A lot of people have magic color boxes, and they can see this too. So, every time I come up in it, I get paid for it," I told him. He tilted his head completely horizontal in an action I recognized as a goblin gesture of deep thought. I'd once asked why they did it, and Gimp had told me it was to shift all the unnecessary thoughts off to the side so the important stuff had room to run around.

Apparently, when they were _really_ confused, running around in circles helped them think.

"Why does Lady Sarah gets paper? Since you is Queen, why not gets pretty stuff? Like pickles?"

I sighed a little, and decided this conversation would go a lot better if I stuck with goblin logic, rather than explaining human logic. "Well, people don't usually want to give up their pickles," I said, to which Ziggy nodded in understanding. "But I supposed if I asked really nicely, they might pay me in something other than money. It's usually easier to just take the paper, though. And I'm not a queen."

Ziggy tilted his head _waaay_ over again, and looked perilously close to needing to run around in circles to make sense of this, so I quickly feigned a yawn and stretched.

"Mmmm, I'm getting really tired, Ziggy. I think it's about time for bed…" I said sleepily. The goblin's eyes abruptly drooped, and he tried in vain to stifle a huge yawn. I suppressed a triumphant grin.

Goblins are _so_ impressionable.

"I's not tired, Lady Sarah. Not sleepy," he insisted as I continued yawning and rubbing my eyes.

"Well, that's alright, Ziggy, I'll just take a little nap and then we can get back up," I said, as I curled myself up in the corner of my couch, snuggling deeply into a pillow. Peeking an eye open, I saw Ziggy's head nod a few times. It was only a matter of time now…

In the middle of a particularly monstrous yawn, the little goblin abruptly keeled over and started snoring. Grinning, I stood and gently picked him up, careful not to jar him - not that it would have mattered, for I was fairly certain that goblins could sleep through Armageddon - and carried him to my room. Off to the side of my bed, I had connected several large dog beds and littered them with pillows and blankets, for those nights when the goblins insisted on a sleepover - because _my_ bed was a goblin-free zone.

Domino cracked an eye at us as I settled Ziggy down, and chuffed sleepily. Stretching a little, he rolled over to make room for me. I smiled and went over to give him a little pat and a kiss on my way out.

I wasn't ready for bed just yet.

Returning to my kitchen, I opened the fridge to make sure it was still running - it was, though as soon as I opened the door the light bulb blew. I grabbed another mug of spiced hot cocoa. Determinedly not looking at my demolished blender and wobbly ceiling fan, I moseyed back into the living room and snagged a blanket, nearly spilling my drink as I tried to one-handedly wrap myself in it and wedge into a corner. It took a few tries, but I succeeded, and once I was satisfactorily cocooned, I stared into the chocolaty depths of my mug and gave my brain free roam over the glitter-infested bits of my mind, and it made a beeline for a thought I had been steadfastly ignoring all evening.

Jareth had made my knees turn to jell-o.

And not out of fear.

_Alright, Sarah, you're an adult,_ I told myself firmly. _Own up to it and be mature_.

Taking a deep breath, I shoved a little steel into my backbone and squared my shoulders.

Jareth was hot.

And I totally wanted him.

Relaxing, I smiled to myself. _That wasn't so hard._ After all, you'd have to be blind or insane not to think he was attractive. It didn't mean I wanted to marry him, it just meant I'd like to -

I shook my head roughly. That was _not_ what I was supposed to be thinking about, here.

Since the mighty Goblin King had apparently decided to pop back in and wrangle up his subjects that had been visiting me for the past ten years, I needed to decide what I was going to do about it. I would have to be careful, obviously, because if my libido had its way, I'd wind up molesting him the next time he decided to poof in, and I wasn't really sure what all an affair with a king entailed. I definitely couldn't afford to be dragged Underground for the rest of eternity because I couldn't keep my pants on. Or was it his pants on?

Of course, if Jareth insisted on being perfectly edible every time I saw him, that would be _extremely_ difficult.

I growled at myself and took a long swing of cocoa. This was silly. I was a grown woman, and I could control my hormones.

"Jareth could pop in here right now stark naked and I would be in full control of myself," I told my drink firmly, and to prove my point, I conjured a very detailed image of such an event.

It was a few minutes before I realized I was drooling.

Scowling, I mopped my face off and struggled out of my cocoon, dumping the rest of my drink out and marching off to bed, ordering myself quite forcefully to dream of DMV lines, sour milk, bad cell phone reception, and other such things of a strictly non-magical persuasion, utterly unrelated to goblins or labyrinths - and more specifically, their deliciously unclothed king.

* * *

**Author's Note: **FANSERVICE?! WHERE?!?(I know, I know, it's ridiculously abundant up there. Think of it as an apology for missing my deadline.)

Hmm. It seems that my eyes have not exploded into clouds of ecstatic fluffy glitter. This means I shall have to put _more _fluff in the next chapter. (We can rebuild it! We'll make it better!)

**CoffeeKris:** Well, no dulling it down for me, then. I look terrible in mops. You've left me with no choice but to continue to outshine the competition, you realize. There is no one to blame but yourself. ( ^.^ )

**Athena's Avatar: **Haha, I know! I feel a little bad for him myself, and I'm the one doing it to him! I comfort myself but reminding him that I gave him a fantastic car and great hair. It makes him less mopey.

**VampiresRule103:** Lol, you have no idea how much fun I had throwing in all those bear refrences. I consider it a supreme display of self control that I stopped before the salmon-catching allusions.

**TinkLuvr16: **Haha! Hope I delivered, my dear! I CANT WAIT FOR YOUR REVIEW I CANT WAIT FOR YOUR REVIEW I CANT WAIT FOR YOUR REVIEW!

**leannapotter:** Thank you, darling! I think I'm actually going to go and pretend that Skinner is hiding in my closet. It's quite an entertaing pastime.

**notwritten: **As always, thank you! *big smile*

**MyraValhalah: **Hope you enjoyed this installment! (I love your name, by the by! GO VIKINGS! *swings mighty Thor-hammer*)

**chrissydarkest: **Always happy to provide the next fix!

**Tsohg: ***Swells with pride* Yes, it was rather awesome, wasn't it? Lol, thank you!

**lov2catnap: **DONE! I think I need some ice cream now... baaaah. *is sheep-slapped*

**Natsuko37: **I did, actually. He decided to improve my shoe collection by turning all of them a rather sparkly shade of neon pink. I'd rather not talk about it. lol, thanks!

**ive-already-seen-hell: **Haha, Thank you, darling!

**Dreamjedi: **^.^ Hope you liked this one too!

**princesspunkinpatch: **Thanks! And worry not, darling, yumminess is indeed in the forecast.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I do not own Labyrinth, or Sarah, or Jareth, or even a Bowie doll. I own only a myriad of useless fan parts, a boomerang screwdriver, and Ziggy. ...Alright, I don't _really _own Ziggy. A girl can wish, though.... DREAM! A girl can dream, I meant. *ahem*

**Also, let's give a nice big squeezy-hug to the lovely Beta, Lov2catnap! Trust me, you owe her.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

"Say it, precious thing," Jareth said, demanded, _begged_, his voice as heavy and hungry as his mismatched, desire darkened eyes as he hovered atop me. My hands shivered as they ran across his vaguely iridescent, meltingly hot skin. His muscles fluttered under my fingertips.

"You have power over me, you always had power over me, I _want _you to have power over me -" I whispered, panted, _groaned_, as he growled into my throat and pressed against me, his fever-hot body firm against mine. His mouth seared along my neck, my jaw, slowly arcing upwards as he dragged his moist lips and tongue over my skin. Heavy breathing sounded in my ear as he reached it, his sharp teeth tugging at the sensitive flesh- I moaned, winding my fingers in his hair, my nails scraping his scalp-

He shuddered. A devastatingly predetorial sound rumbled through his body, rough but attractive, like raw silk, against my ear. Jareth turned his head, his mouth latching onto mine, devouring me -

I writhed under him, desperately wanting, _needing _friction. His knee slid between thighs and I gladly parted, wrapping my legs around his hips. I arched under him, tensing -

He moved against me, his tongue in time with his hips, as scorching flames erupted under my skin.

"Yes, mine, always wanted you to be mine," he murmured against my mouth. I inhaled his words, licking at the sweet wine taste they left as I molded myself to him. His mouth pressed along my jaw, kissing down my neck, licking at my pulse point, nipping at the hollow, as he trailed down to my chest. I watched as his lust-black eyes looked up at me, baring his sharp canines in a wicked smile, before his lips closed around the tip of my breast.

Throwing my head back as his name ripped from my throat, a frantic cry, I clutched at -

My blankets, which were in a furious tangle, imprisoning my legs. I whipped my head around, panting, and realized I was alone, in my room, and hotter than hell.

_Damn _that man! How _dare_ he get me all worked up like that and then let me wake up!? The fact that it had been a conjuration of my own hormone-drenched, perverted mind was of no consequence.

I wrestled myself free of my covers and roughly wiped the sweat off my brow, scratching myself a little. I glowered.

"Stupid, stupid, Sarah. So much for DMV lines."

Grumbling, I stomped off to the bathroom and flipped the water to '_absurdly frigid_', intending to plant myself in a freezing cold shower until my body behaved like a normal adult and quit lusting after Goblin Kings with baby snatching problems. As I tried to peel my sweat-soaked, sticky shirt off of me, however, I was hit by truly horrid suspicion.

Racing back to my bedroom, I ripped back the blankets, suddenly _sure_ they would be covered in glitter, and possibly bearing a few strands of blonde hair - _Oh, god, what if he's in here now -_

They were bare.

I sighed in relief. _That_ would have been one almighty _mess_.

But… it would have been _fun_…

Shaking my head free of the remembered snatches of my dream, I walked myself back into the bathroom and continued with my cold shower plan.

***

Lady Sarah was Crabby.

Dizz had come to this decision only after a Very Long Time of hiding in her closet and watching her clean and wrestle the Important Plastic Devil-Contraption, which was being extremely stubborn, even though she had threatened to throw it out the window more than once. Dizz admired it's persistence - had Lady Sarah told _him_ that, he would have done whatever it was she wanted the Devil-Contraption to do real quick.

He thought about trying to cheer her up, but on several occasions, she had started cursing all things magic, including the Fraggen Thieving Buggers That Started This Whole Mess, which sounded suspiciously like the term King sometimes used to describe the Goblins, and Dizz had decided it was probably better to just keep hiding. Usually, when King was in this sort of mood, a spike in bogging frequency occurred - and while he wasn't entirely sure Lady Sarah would send him to the bog, as she had never done it before, he was fairly certain he didn't want to find out. Besides, the only thing he could think of to cheer her up was to let her use his Special Drinker, and he was really attached to it…

But, he didn't like Lady Sarah to be Not Happy…

Suddenly, Dizz had an idea so brilliant that it literally knocked the little goblin off his feet, and he had a hard time not whooping in excitement.

***

I had come to the realization that the universe was against me.

After thawing myself back out after my shower, I realized that I wasn't hot just because of that blasted dream.

It was roughly ninety-five degrees in my apartment.

And the air _would not turn off_.

Goblin Fallout, Part Two.

Now, in a rational, non-magical world, the logical solution to a malfunctioning air conditioner would be to open a window.

Unfortunately, there was a blizzard raging outside that had popped up out of nowhere.

Goblin Fallout, Part Three.

I was afraid to see if everyone was having this problem or if only I was affected, because I was sure they would immediately sense my guilt and grab their torches and pitchforks. I wasn't well-liked in the building anyways - I could only imagine the painful chaos that would ensue if anyone found out I was the cause of the late-winter indoor heat-wave.

So, instead, I made myself busy, attempting to put together a large fan that had been sitting in my coat closet since summer.

I probably would have had better luck trying to rig my toaster to send me to the moon; after several hours of fruitless toil I had only a heap of vaguely fan-esque white plastic, a dozen small cuts, a bent screwdriver, and very little patience to show for my efforts. Domino had long since taken to hiding under my bed with a smelly old shoe he had wrested from a goblin, a rawhide bone, and one of my pillows, apparently operating under the assumption that it would be cooler in the shade, and less noisy out of sight. He had growled playfully for a few minutes, and then promptly fallen asleep.

His snores mocked me.

Taking a deep breath, I told myself calmly that I was a competent adult, fully capable of putting a damn fan together, and I could do it without crying, throwing a temper tantrum, or making the goblins do it. After all, I had hooked up both my VCR _and _my DVD player, hadn't I? And each had a perfectly functional clock. I could totally do this.

Reassured in my self-worth, I picked up my boomerang-screwdriver and began dutifully tightening a screw into a junction that I thought seemed like a good place for a screw.

Apparently, the screw disagreed.

The little piece of metal abruptly snapped, the head of it flying off to some unknown corner of my apartment, while the rest of it lay immovably lodged in my 'fan'.

"GAH! Bog-dammit! Your mother is a fraggin aardvark, you know that?" I snarled at the accursed plastic contraption, chucking my screwdriver in the direction of the kitchen - and hoping it wouldn't fly back at me - as I wondered why metal seemed so malleable around me.

"Really, Sarah, is it so difficult to ask for assistance?" chided a tingle-inducing, melodic voice behind me, and I started violently, whacking my hand on the blasted devil-thing before me. I cursed inventively and spun around, giving the new occupant of my couch my best scowly glare.

"Seeing as my current predicament is a direct result of you and your subjects' visit, I kinda preferred to do it myself, thanks very much," I snapped, shaking my hand in an effort to lessen the stinging. "If you and your damn kingdom had stayed out of my apartment, I wouldn't be roasting alive in the middle of a freak blizzard."

Jareth adopted a mildly wounded expression, and I rolled my eyes, opting to inspect my new cut rather than subject myself to his glittery appearance.

I froze.

_Glitter_.

"I can't possibly-" Jareth began, lounging more extensively on my couch, but stopped abruptly as I whirled and leveled an accusing finger at him.

"_You!_" I snarled, and something that seemed delightfully close to abject terror flitted across his sharp, regal features. "You left _glitter_ everywhere!"

He arched an eyebrow in a perfectly executed gesture of innocence. I briefly wished I had a camera ready.

"I?" he questioned. I gave him a flat look, and swatted at his legs. A small dusting of glitter wafted from the impact. I glared at the offending substance as though I could vaporize it by mere intimidation.

He peered at the incriminating evidence. "Ah," he conceded.

"Yeah," I said shortly, and crossed my arms irritably. "You know, it took Ziggy and I _hours_ to clean this place up. There was glitter in my _coffee_. It's sealed! How the _heck_ did you manage to -"

"Pardon, my dear, but did you say _Ziggy?_" His Sparkliness interjected, clearly shocked. Drawing from a rather extensive well of experience, I knew that cleaning ranked quite highly among the goblin's list of Not Fun Things. I grinned smugly.

"Yup. He volunteered." I may have let just a little bit of triumph slip into my tone.

"A goblin _volunteered_ to _clean_?" he repeated, then glanced around my apartment. He cocked his head slightly. "Well, actually, I suppose that explains your home's condition," he allowed.

I gaped at him in outrage.

"Compared to the _condition_ your entire kingdom's population left it in, this is _immaculate_," I retorted, and poked a finger at his legs. "And don't think I don't remember the _condition_ of your castle, mister," I said, and that look I'd noticed yesterday danced in his eyes, before he covered it up with a smirk.

"Sarah, you were in my castle hardly half an hour. You mean to tell me you still remember what it looks like a decade later?" he said, his voice tinged with arrogant amusement. I felt my face flush.

"Well, such a disastrous mess tends to leave an impression," I snapped. After all, it wasn't like mentally I retraced my steps through his castle, or daydreamed about the Escher room, or had naughty dreams featuring his bedroom, or anything…

Jareth cocked an eyebrow in a self-satisfied, knowing manner. I flushed deeper.

"Anyways," I said sharply, spinning on my knees back to the jumbled plastic mess masquerading as fan parts, and suppressed a wince as I felt the carpet abrade my skin. "I suggest you make a royal decree, forbidding anyone, or anything, from the Labyrinth, to come within twenty feet of me for the next week. Or else you may wind up missing a few subjects," I informed him, doing my absolute best _not_ to imagine what sort of look he had on his face right now, and distracted myself by picking up a rather suspicious looking fan piece and trying to figure out where on earth it was supposed to fit. Unfortunately, my brain was being extremely uncooperative, and I found myself doing exactly that as he paused, probably tapping a finger thoughtfully against his lips, or smirking, or smiling in that 'I-just-won-and-we-both-know-it' manner of his -

Or maybe his eyes were dark and hungry, his sharp teeth bared in a wicked grin -

The piece of plastic I'd been clenching in my hand suddenly broke with a loud _snap_, and I added another cut or two to my already extensive collection.

"Bog-_dammit_!" I hissed, dropping the worthless piece of obviously ill made junk and inspecting my hand.

I heard Jareth sigh from behind me, and I shot him a glare over my shoulder as he swung his legs off the couch, leaning toward me.

"Sarah, Princess, this is really quite unnecessary," he told me in a 'are-you-honestly-this-stubborn?' tone, and gently took my abused hands in his gloved ones. Tingles shot through my arms at the contact, and I suddenly had to concentrate very hard on things like breathing and containing my drool at the realization that I was less than a foot away from Jareth, King Sexy-Pants. He smelled like the sharp night air of mid-winter and something vaguely spicy, like raw cinnamon. His fingers, warm even through the leather, ran gently over my palms, leaving faint pinpricks in their wake -

I wrenched my hands away, eyes wide and horrified.

"No! You can't do magic!" I cried, and looked around in a panic, half-expecting the building to suddenly collapse around me.

"What?" he frowned, looking mildly affronted. "What _are_ you raving about, Sarah?" he demanded, and I puffed out a breath in rushed exasperation.

"You!" I said, waving a hand at him irritably. "You're _stuffed_ with magic! You're lying around, probably _leaking_ it into my apartment just by _being_ here, and I certainly can't afford for you to actually be _using_ magic - next thing you know the windows will suddenly be made of saran wrap or something -" I eyed the windows, wishing I hadn't mentioned it - what if I was giving them ideas? - until Jareth's fingers firmly gripped my chin and turned my face back to his.

"Sarah," he said carefully, "how long have you been working on that fan?" he asked, as though I were some poor woman suffering delusions and a severe case of cabin fever. I scowled.

"Since your _goblins_ caused a magical fallout and I've been sweating my ass off in the middle of February!" I growled, and jerked my chin out of his grasp, maybe pouting just a little.

The corners of his mouth pulled down slightly in confusion, and he gave me an appraising look.

"What is this 'magical fallout' business?" he asked, and I arched an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean, 'what is it'? It's the result of your stupid magical creatures and crap mucking around with the logic and order of things. Everywhere those goblins go, chaos follows like a friggin' pet," I snapped. Jareth pondered this for a moment, tapping a finger on his lips - it looked just like I imagined - and then looked around my sweltering apartment, as though just now noticing the heat.

"So you mean to say that you think this," he waved his hand, gesturing at the little slice of Sahara that was my apartment, "is magic's fault?"

I glowered a little more at him. "I _know_ it's magic's fault. It's been happening for ten years, now; I'm not _that_ slow on the uptake."

He gave me an oblique look, and I rolled my eyes.

"Look, humans live off of machines and gears and gizmos and hardware, all of which relies on set patterns and processes and precision. Goblins show up, with all their illogical, irrational reasoning and their impossible existence, and it throws off the balance of things on this side. They don't do it on purpose, I don't think, it's just because of what they are. Doesn't mean it isn't their fault, but it isn't intentional," I explained, and glanced around my apartment, remembering the overwhelming number of logic-sabotaging beings that had recently inhabited it. "It usually isn't so bad, but when you decided to go and dump the entire Labyrinth in here, it was bound to have side effects," I said, with only the barest trace of hostile accusation.

Jareth snorted. "I hardly decided to 'dump the entire Labyrinth in here', Princess," he told me shortly, and reclined back into my couch, stretching in a distinctly feline manner, making himself comfortable. I tried not to notice that his current position was the perfect angle to draw attention to the more noteworthy portions of his outfit. Like his pants.

I glanced at his face and felt quite certain he was well aware of the fact.

"Actually," he continued, "I had to track them down, and drag them all back. It's rather dangerous for my subjects to be wandering off like that. Therefore, I suppose that since it seems to be in both of our best interests, a formal decree is indeed in order," he said, and even though he acknowledged that the idea had already been introduced, he still managed to make it sound like he'd thought it up.

"Though, I can't say I wouldn't mind being rid of several goblins… in fact, there are quite a few I wouldn't object to losing," he added as he gazed thoughtfully off into the distance, and glanced at me. "How serious were you in your earlier threat?"

I snorted. "Oh no, don't even _think_ about pawning off your more irritating minions on me, pal," I said, and hauled myself up off my floor, determinedly not looking at him or his flamboyantly displayed assets. I thought I heard him swear under his breath as I passed him on the way to the kitchen, and I grinned a little. I raised my voice and called over my shoulder to him as I walked.

"Would you like something to drink? I'm dying of thir-"

My offer was interrupted as a bout of ferocious, maniacal barking erupted from my room, and my bed thumped violently as Domino hurled himself out from under it, racing toward the living room and its occupant.

I lunged after him, seizing him by the hips and rolling the both of us through a rather painful collection of fan parts.

"Mr. Puppy!" I shouted, and Domino immediately stopped struggling, though a growl still bubbled warningly in his throat. I looked at Jareth and was unsurprised to see him crouching in an obviously defensive position on my couch, glaring at my puppy.

I doubted round two would end in Mr. Puppy's favor.

Sighing, I released him and started climbing gingerly to my feet. "Come on, puppy. Let's get you a bone, and then you're going to sit like a good boy and not try to intimidate Mamma's guests," I told him, and patted my leg. As I started toward the kitchen I glanced at Domino, who had righted himself into an aggressive stance, and was ignoring me in favor of baring his teeth at Jareth.

I rolled my eyes and turned to Jareth to apologize, and felt the words die in my throat at the Goblin King's expression.

Jareth was baring _his_ teeth at Domino.

I snorted.

"Oh, good grief, boys, can't you play nice for five minutes?" I chastised, and turned my back on them, walking into my poor, still wobbly-fanned kitchen. "Did you want that bone or not, Mr. Puppy?" I called over my shoulder, and heard my dog's claws scrabbling on the tile floor as he raced to receive his treat. I held it above his head as he sat and begged, tail whipping about impatiently.

"Now, you only get this if you promise to be good, okay?" I said, and he whined in what I decided to take as an agreement. I tossed it up in the air, and he leapt up, catching it and taking off into my bedroom before I could change my mind and take it back. Shaking my head at him, I grabbed two Gatorades from the fridge (which still had a broken light bulb - I planned to wait a week or so before replacing that) and returned to the Goblin King on my couch.

He was now stretched lengthwise along my sofa, facing so that he had a clear view into my room, where Domino's eyes shone menacingly from under my bed and vaguely ominous crunching could be heard. I rolled my eyes again and tapped on Jareth's feet, which he obligingly moved. I handed him a Gatorade as I sat, which he took and regarded dubiously.

"I don't think my dog likes you very much, Jareth. Maybe you should bring him a bribe next time," I suggested, and took a sip of orange-flavored heaven. Jareth scowled, and opened his own drink.

"I am a king. I do not bribe," he informed me, and carefully sniffed the sports drink. I tried not to smile as he gingerly sipped at it, and tilted his head, as though savoring a fine wine. After a moment, he seemed to deem it sufficient to his tastes, and took a rather large gulp.

"Right, yeah, unless you count bribing young girls with their dreams to forget their baby brothers," I said, though it held less animosity than it may have previously. Since he wasn't being overtly mean, it seemed childish of me to hold a grudge…

"I would hardly consider that a _bribe_, Princess," he protested, and I thought I detected a pleased undertone in his voice. "More of an even exchange," he corrected, and I snorted.

"I would _hardly_ consider that even," I said, imitating his clipped accent. He smirked at me.

"Given the complexity of your dreams at the time, precious thing, it was far more even than you think," he said, and I was hit by the uncomfortable realization that I was talking to the one person who, at one point at least, had known all of my needs, hopes, and desires. It was slightly unsettling.

I took a long pull of my Gatorade, and looked anywhere but at him.

"I suppose I ought to return and forbid my subjects from bothering you for a bit, before they appear en masse again," Jareth said after several moments of painfully awkward silence, and I gratefully grasped at the excuse.

"Yes, well, it was nice of you to stop by," I babbled, the hostess training Karen had managed to beat into my skull taking over, and I hurriedly set my drink down to stand and escort him out, as though he would be using the door. Before I could get up, though, my hand was covered by a leather-clad one and blonde wisps of his hair brushed against my cheek, tickling lightly.

"Until next time, precious thing," he said in a low murmur, his voice vibrating against my ear as his lips brushed along my ear lobe, and a hot shiver raced through me as I inhaled his magic-and-winter scent -

And then I was sitting alone on my couch, breathing far heavier than the situation warranted, and wondering if I could bottle that smell.

***

_There,_ Jareth thought to himself in a satisfied manner, peering at pleasingly dazed Sarah, via his ever-useful crystals. That encounter had gone far better than the last. Not only had he managed to paint himself in a better, more accessible light to his dear mortal, but he had drawn her out of that foul mood. It had been terribly distressing to see her so put out.

Unfortunately, he had tasked himself with the unpleasant duty of giving his subjects what would likely be an ill-received Command, but even so, he felt all in all quite good about the whole affair.

Tossing the bauble in the air and deftly catching it, Jareth decided he felt like singing. Possibly even dancing, depending on just _how _ill his goblins received their new, albeit temporary, restriction. He started toward his throne room, a slight spring in his step, humming and mentally choreographing a new number.

***

Subsequent to Jareth's departure, I had lazed around daydreaming for a little while, before I realized that I was acting like a foolish, love-struck, teenaged sap again, and went to take Domino on a walk, hoping that perhaps wandering around in a blizzard for a bit would snap me out of being stupid.

It was then I noticed I was dressed in ratty old gym shorts and a shapeless, fraying, decrepit tee-shirt that may have once belonged to Buddha, or some other long-dead, pleasantly-rotund deity with a habit of leaving their shirts around.

And Jareth had seen me like this.

After groaning and banging my head a few times - on a conveniently placed doorframe - at the unfairness of it all, I wriggled into my marshmallow-esque snowsuit, and took my puppy on what had probably been our shortest walk all winter. I waddled back up the stairs, hoping that Jareth wouldn't pop up while I was dressed like the Michelin Man's love-child, only to enter my apartment and discover that the lying, cheating, glitter-infested, _snake_ of a Whatever-He-Was's royal decree of Temporary-Banishment-From-Lady-Sarah's-For-Your-Own-Well-Being to the goblins hadn't been quite as royal-decree-ish as he'd implied.

Because they were dancing in my living room.

"DANSE MAGIC PANTS-"

"SLAP A BABY!"

"JUMP MAGIC JUMP-"

"_**No**__!_" I cried, dropping Domino's leash and throwing my arms out. "_No magic jump!"_

My poor, poor living room was again swarming with goblins, most of which seemed to be doing some sort of line dance that involved slapping each other at regular intervals and then tossing the goblin next to them across the room with surprising velocity.

My plea went unnoticed and several goblins soared across the short span of my apartment, crashing into walls, tables, and my couch with more or less equal disregard for the laws of physics, common sense, and pain. One such airborne fellow happened to be flung on a course that propelled him straight into _me_.

The impact toppled me backwards over Domino's back, and the three of us collapsed into a tangled, furry, barking mess, and I noticed with detached disappointment that my padded snowsuit did very little to soften my landing. Something circular and extremely unforgiving rammed itself into my jaw, and stars blossomed along the edges of my vision. I groaned and went quite still, finding that I could better appreciate the exquisite detail of the flaring agony in my face if I wasn't concerned with things like coherent thought or self-defense.

A sharp, pointy little face with a familiar mug on it's head popped into my line of sight, and grinned down at me from atop my chest.

"Lady Sarah!" he squeaked. "You wants to Magic Jump?!"

"No, thanks, I'm fine," I said, but my suddenly uncooperative jaw mangled the words, and it came out more like "Numhanns, buffemmmne."

"JUMP MAGIC JUMP-"

"Lady Sarah Dancing?"

"MAGIC JUMP LADY SARAH-"

I looked up in horror as I was charged by a bunch of confused goblins. Gimp was leading the attack, and I had a sudden certainty that I was going to get kicked in the face with a teapot-

"Wait! Guys, it's alright-"

But it was too late, I was already besieged. The next few minutes were a befuddled jumble of goblins, acrylic polyester, and slobber, and for the most part I was unsure if they were trying to 'jump' me or bury me.

In a last desperate attempt, I gave an almighty heave and lunged for the T.V. remote, mashing the 'On' button despite its recent tendency to ignore my remote commands and flip to the adult channels, hoping that the bright colors and loud noises would interrupt the goblin's destructive merriment.

My plan worked, as a painfully vivid cartoon starfish flew at an equally obnoxious sponge in the new generation's version of an epic martial arts battle.

"OOOooooohhhhh," the goblins chorused, and I thanked whatever god might be intermittently listening for their short attention spans.

I extracted myself from the goblin heap - I always seemed to wind up at the bottom of those, regardless of my starting position - and rubbed at my jaw tenderly, hoping without much optimism that the inevitable bruise would be small.

"Alright, you guys stay here, and I'll go get you some cookies," I said wearily, hauling myself noisily to my feet and wobbling to the kitchen.

"H'okay, Lady Sarah," they agreed. I grabbed a bag of the mish-mashed snacks I'd been able to salvage from their last visit, and quickly distributed them before retreating to my room, where I immediately discarded the snowsuit in a cacophony of synthetic swishing and dressed in something a little more flattering than my 'college grunge' apparel.

Running a brush through my hair with perhaps a bit more force than absolutely necessary, I quickly outlined a speech in my head, peppering it with sharp, aerodynamic comments specifically designed to pop inflated egos with precision and speed, and prepared to demand that the stupid-haired, outrageously dressed (honestly, who did he think he was, wearing boots like that?) King of the Goblins get his sparkly self up here _right now,_ when I was distracted by a distinctly familiar squawking from the adjacent room.

"Woo woo woo, no wonder the little beasts are so comfortable here! It's more of a pigsty than the Labyrinth!" trilled a high pitched, vaguely accented voice. I skidded into my living room and saw that, indeed, it was now host to a wrinkly, befuzzled old man with impressive eyebrows and a talking, feathered hat, in addition to my regular gaggle of goblins.

"Would you be quiet? You know very well what the goblins did to her home," the Wise Man told his Hat irritably. The bird sniffed and tossed it's red-plumed head.

"Well, anyone who can tolerate a home like _this_ has obviously been hanging around Jareth too long," it said shortly, and gave me a pointed look.

I frowned. "Now, hold on a minute, I've hardly even _seen _Jareth in the past decade," _except for the past few days, anyhow - _I hesitated, trying very hard not to remember the way he smelled, or the pleasant jitters the memory would initiate, or the feeling of his teeth on my -

"And certainly not enough to be picking up his lousy cleaning habits." I forced myself to concentrate on the present.

The Hat scoffed. "Likely. I suppose you noticed that pause there?" it asked the Wise Man, who blinked slowly at it.

"Perhaps, my annoying accessory, it is not that she lies, but that the truth is not as she would tell it," he said.

"Oh, yes, that makes much more sense," it warbled sarcastically.

I glared at it. "Wait a minute, I'm telling the truth! Really, I haven't-" I bit my tongue. This was pointless. Why was I arguing with that thing? "Never mind, think what you want. Why are you here?"

"Ah! See, you see there, she didn't even offer us tea before business talk. Very rude; definitely too much time with Jareth." The bird glared self-righteously at me. I glared back.

"Will you _please_ be quiet?! We have a purpose for this visit," the Wise Man pleaded.

"Pardon me for expecting hospitality, then. Sorry," the Hat said indignantly.

"Don't apologize, just be quiet."

"Fine."

"Thank you," he said, and looked back at me and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'll be quiet. I won't intrude on your important conversation."

Glaring, he rolled his eyes up to his Hat and cleared his throat.

"Are you done?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Sorry."

The Wise Man closed his eyes, and I could practically see him counting to ten. I hid a grin. They hadn't changed a bit in ten years.

"Now, then, Young Lady,-"

"But it's not like I wasn't right."

"I'll trade you in for a bowler! I swear I will!" he snapped, but the Hat just snorted.

"You'd never find another hat to fit your head. And no hat shop would take me."

"Quite right there," he grumbled. Swallowing a smirk, I tilted my head. As amusing as it was to watch the two of them, I sincerely wanted to get to the crux of the conversation before the only one with anything to really say fell asleep. Or my windows turned to saran wrap, whichever came first.

"So, you're here because…?" I interrupted, and the Wise Man cast one last dark look at his Hat before turning back to me.

"Young Lady, it has come to my attention -"

"_Our_ attention."

"… Yes. _Our_ attention," Growled the old man, "that you have become a weaver of tales."

I cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes, actually, I'm a children's author. I didn't realize anyone in the Labyrinth knew, except for the goblins," I said. The Hat straightened in triumph.

"Hah! So you admit it!" it crowed. I frowned in confusion.

"Admit what?"

"That you have been stea- KAWAGH!" it squawked as it's wearer tried to bat it into silence.

"_Bowler hat!_ I swear it," he threatened.

"Alright! Fine! I'll stay out of it."

"Good!"

"Fine!"

"Alright!"

The poor Wise Man huffed for a few moments, glaring warily at the Hat as it determinedly looked around with an indifferent air.

"_Now_, then. It has come to our attention," he paused, throwing a challenging glance at his Hat, "that you have been using the residents of the Labyrinth as subjects in your stories."

I paused, regarding the two cautiously. "Yes, I have…"

"And that you have led people to believe that these tales are fictitious, and creations of your own mind."

I narrowed my eyes, a feeling of unease settling in my stomach.

"Yes, but if I told people my inspiration came from the goblins that routinely invade my home, they'd lock me up in a loony bin," I said defensively.

"Ah, but, Young Lady, sometimes the perception of insanity is really just a realized fiction," he said wisely. I blinked.

"Uhm, yeah, but… they'd still lock me up," I said, relatively sure I hadn't understood him and that it would be futile to try. "Fiction is the only safe way to write about it."

"Yes, but although your deception is accepted, it is a deception nonetheless. And compensations must be made."

I blinked again. "Compensations? For what?"

"For using us in your stupid little books, that's what. Degrading, is what it is," the Hat pitched in. The Wise Man sighed in defeat.

"Also, you have recently engaged in a wider method of distribution, involving a magic colored box of some sorts. It seems reasonable that additional reparations should be awarded."

"So, what, you mean, like… pay you royalties?" I asked incredulously. I had a sudden vision of Ziggy trying to tell all his goblin friends about royalties, and I could have slapped myself. I _knew_ no good would come of trying to teach goblins the monetary system… "What good would my money do you? And I haven't even used _you_, you overgrown, feathered witch hat," I snapped, relishing in it's outrage as it spluttered affrontedly.

"Be that as it may," the Wise Man said loudly, prodding his Hat into silence, "By your own laws, payment to the aggrieved is due. I believe they are open to suggestions…" he said, his voice trailing off, and I recognized the sleepy look that settled on his features just before his eyes drooped shut and he fell asleep standing up.

"Well, I guess that's it for now. Contribution, please," said the Hat, and the small wooden box at the Wise Man's side rattled insistently.

"Oh no, not this time, pal," I said, and leaned forward, poking the Wise Man squarely on the nose. He jolted, stuttering awake in mid-snore, and blinked a few times.

"Oh! Young Lady! Have you settled you debt?" he asked pleasantly.

I frowned. "No, I haven't, and I'm not going to until you answer a couple of my quest-"

My voice was suddenly lost amid a horrid screeching as the volume on my television quite abruptly reached its limit, and the goblins that had been riveted to it panicked.

I tried to yell for everyone to calm down, but somehow the words got confused on the way to my mouth, and ended up sounding entirely different.

"…_were all hyped up on the punch that was being served backstage and I would have been able to pull off your little 'story hour' just fine it I hadn't been forced to treat them like pretty little extras for the first half. __**Not to mention**__…"_ I heard myself shrieking, and the little sliver way down inside that still wondered why these things happened to me spontaneously combusted.

My newly acquired TiVo was _again_ playing that awful news blip of me tearing into Jeff's hide. I distractedly wondered if it had bothered to record anything else.

Just as my televised voice grew completely unbearable and I began to think that I would _never_ escape that blasted segment, the din was silenced by Tooka ramming part of my fan through the set.

I just looked at him, unsure whether to be outraged or grateful.

"Don't worry, Lady Sarah. Tooka takes care of bad man. No need to be angry no more," he assured me with a smile, his large, brightly colored beak clicking in self-satisfaction.

I sighed and patted Tooka on the head, turning back to the Wise Man.

"Look, I just want to-" I began, but found myself stopped short again as everyone in the room simultaneously went rigid.

"Uh-oh," said Dizz.

"What, what is it?" I asked, worried.

"Summons," Gimp answered, and with that the goblins instantly disappeared.

I glared around at my newly destroyed living room.

"Oh, sure, _now_ his stupid decree takes effect," I growled, and went in search of my vacuum.

***

Dizz decided he really must be the Smartest Goblin Ever. Not only had he figured out how to get rid of Lady Sarah's Grumps, but he had gotten a whole bunch of goblins to pay attention and agree with him, which was quite a feat since all goblins knew that arguing was a lot more fun that agreeing. He was quite proud of himself for getting all the Bestest Goblin Dancers to do the Bestest Goblin Dance in her Tiny Chair Room.

And it had worked! Not only had she rushed to join in, but she had even invited the Sleepy Bearded Man and the Fun To Poke Hat, who were always a welcome addition to goblin parties.

"_Slapping baby, making free! Jump magic jump…"_

He did a few steps of the Dance, mainly the hip-wiggle jump-jump parts, as he chased a couple of chickens. Nobody, no matter how bad they had The Grumps, had ever Grumped after doing The Bestest Goblin Dance. Even King liked doing it - it was too bad King wasn't around when Dizz had his Great Idea; it would have been much more fun being thrown around by King… but no matter, it had been A Lotta Fun anyways.

Dizz was a little sad that now he had to stay away from Lady Sarah's Tiny Castle, but he supposed it was alright, since now she could do the Bestest Goblin Dance whenever she got lonely or bored.

Dizz smiled. Definitely, the Smartest Goblin Ever.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Whew! Good heavens, has it really been this long?! ...*sigh* I apologize, kittens, and I would promise not to do it again, but I don't want to be a liar _and _alazy author. I'll do my best to update in a timely manner, this time.

Now, onto more pertinent notes.

OH EM GEE, THERE WAS SMUT. Well, really, we all knew Sarah was going to have a couple interesting dreams after the last chapter. Don't go fooling yourselves. :3 And no, there was no Jeff this chapter. You didn't miss it. Don't worry, we'll be getting back to Blue Eyes in the next one!

**TO MY REVIEWERS:** Thank you all sooooooo sososososososo much! I ADORE you all! Let's all boogie down.

**Lov2catnap:** I luvers you! *huggle*

**Natsuko37:** Well, he certainly has better hair for the villain role than Jareth. Honestly, blonde and poofy, vs. black and shiny? Obviously more sinister… :) Thank you!

**WolfxAngel:** Hum. Will a mental jumping suffice?

**TrashedXandXScattered:** I tried to make him, but unfortunately Jareth was throwing a hissy fit and was uncooperative. Perhaps if I give him a cookie next time he'll be more susceptible to suggestions, haha.

**Tinkluvr16:** Oh, sorry, darling! Though, he *is* naked up there. Does that make up for it?

**Canadian Chica:** Thank you, me dear! I consider the comparison to be of the highest caliber.

**Princesspunkinpatch:** Happy to please! Thank you, darling!

**Insanity fairy:** Thank you for your feedback! I'm glad you liked it!

**.:** Haha, I don't know about the rapid updates, but there's no way I could stop in the middle of this one!

**Charm Shadow:** Hehee, she may be a bit pervy. :3

**Camcalli:** Thank you, darling! :) I love writing the goblins - they're my favorite part, haha (well, perhaps second to the gratuitous bum references, but that's no surprise).

**Ferlinda The Dreamweaver:** Thank you, luv! I'm glad you like their bantering, it's oodles of fun to write!

**Foyer Idol:** If you happen to read this, I love you. In a strictly platonic, I'd-only-hit-that-because-your-an-alien way. Also, Butler says he has some fresh baked raspberry pastries in his duffel bag, there, and he'd get them for you, but his ropes are adequately tied this time.

**Centrifuga:** Thank you for your reviews! And of course, feel free to do the Happy-Jareth-Dance whenever you feel the urge. :)

**Cybernetic Mango:** Thank you, my dear! (Glad you enjoyed it. And by the by, I love your name!)


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** _Pants, magic pants...Sexy magic pants..._

(You are thoroughly distracted by the talk of Jareth's pants, aren't you? Far too distracted to be angry at me, yes? Or to notice me stealing the legal paperwork concerning ownership of Labyrinth?)

Thanks to my beta, **lov2catnap** because she is invaluable and I adore her.

And on a side note, this chapter is dedicated to **MayFeiScarlette**, because she said 'please'. :)

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

It had been nearly a week since I'd seen hide or hair of the goblins.

Six days of peace, quiet, and cleanliness, during which I had taken eight baths, six naps, and only one trip to the grocery and hardware stores. My entire apartment was a shining example of order and style. The kitchen fan was fixed, I had a new T.V. and blender, and my socks were completely untouched and free of even a hint of glitter.

And I hated it.

I couldn't believe how appallingly _boring_ the last few days had been. After the novelty of a clean apartment had worn off, I realized that there was just nothing to _do_. Domino was equally unhappy, and had taken to staring in a mopey manner at my sock drawer, as though wishing there were a goblin or two trying to ransack it.

I agreed with his sentiments.

The blizzard had _finally_ died off several hours ago, and after being cooped up with no one but a grumpy puppy and a depressingly spotless apartment, I jumped at the chance to get away from the insufferable heat of brought on by the still-malfunctioning central air system. Domino and I took an extra long walk, on which he chased a ridiculous number squirrels - I suspect that several of them were actually imaginary, and he was simply running for the sheer joy of making me flail along behind him - and sniffed every plant larger than a grasshopper that we came across.

After being bribed back to the apartment with promises of bacon and fried chicken, Domino promptly crashed on the living room floor and filled the room with the loud snores of a satisfied puppy.

I smiled fondly at him and snatched up my keys, still wanting to roam around a bit.

I skipped down to my car, overjoyed to be outside, even if it was still frigid and overcast. I tried to use my remote to unlock my car from several spaces away and was unsurprised when it didn't work - despite the fact that I had only driven my car once during the Goblin Storm, two days ago, my car was completely free of snow. There was also a clear path for me to drive out to the road.

I was fairly certain the maintenance guys hadn't done that, especially since the snow that had been removed from my car had been piled into a lovely depiction of a small, lumpy thing with a teapot stuck on one of it's four lower limbs.

I manually unlocked my door and nearly made the mistake of not checking before sliding into the driver's seat, where the confirmation to my suspicions regarding my snow-free car lay.

There was a particularly fuzzy pickle on the seat, with a blue-crayon note scrawled on a crumpled scrap of paper next to it.

Ladee Sara

This iz mi favrit pikel for wen yoo gets lonlee or sad.

Dun wury, King sez we kin cum bak soon.

Luv, Gimp

I smiled, and gently moved the pickle to the passenger seat.

I missed my goblins.

Originally, I had intended to just drive at random, but found myself instead pulling into the parking lot of the local party supply store. Wandering around inside, I found all sorts of things to use as 'royalties' for the goblins, and several hours later I huffed out to my car with a silly smile plastered all over my face and several bulging bags of goodies.

I couldn't _wait_ for them to get back.

It took a little doing, but after a few minutes I managed to get everything wedged into the back seat and hopped up front, absently wondering if I had any good mix tapes in the glove box, and started the car.

Or, tried to.

My engine spluttered and coughed, the fell abruptly silent. Viciously cold horror ran through me, and I clenched my eyes shut, chanting a mantra to the Gods of Working Cars as I twisted the key over and over, always with the same result.

After a dozen or so tries, I gave up and let my head fall against my steering wheel.

"I miss my goblins, I miss my goblins, I _miss_ my _goblins_," I told myself, shoving open my door and hauling myself out of my useless, magic-sabotaged car so I could pace around it angrily and throw furious glances at it.

Once I had calmed down enough to be reasonably sure I wouldn't swear violently at the poor fellow on the other end of the line, I stomped over to a payphone and pulled out my contact book and stared at it, wondering if it contained the number for a tow truck. I rifled through, feeling sickeningly positive that it didn't, and suddenly paused, midway through the G's.

_Garner, Jeff._

My fingers hovered over the coin deposit, wondering if calling him would be a mistake. I already knew he had mild feelings for me… would I be digging myself an even bigger hole?

On the other hand, did I _really_ want to call a taxi?

My thumb pressed a quarter in of it's own accord, and my wallet agreed with its sentiments.

***

Jeff was having a very hard time not ginning like an idiot, and possibly bouncing around a bit and whooping in delight.

Not only had Sarah called him, but she needed _help_. There was no better way to engender trust with a woman than to be there for her when she needed _help_, and trust was a sidewalk on the road to physical attraction.

Really, this couldn't have gone better if he'd planned it. Aside from the fact that Sarah's car was inexplicably dead, of course. But, viewed in the right light, really, even that could be a blessing…

"I have no idea, Sarah. The engine is sound, all the wires are connected, and the battery is charged. The starter's working, ignition switch is aligned - everything seems fine, except that it won't start," he said, strategically wiping of the grease that was smudged on his hands onto his jeans in a rugged, manly manner. Grease could be a fellow's best friend if correctly applied: there was a calculated smear on his cheek, where it would highlight his strong jaw and contrast his big blue eyes; a handprint had been wiped across his chest to accentuate it's broadness and draw attention to his impressive tone; and the elongated grease smudge on his pants focused the eye on both his derrière and defined his muscled thighs.

It was quite an ingenious set up.

However, it would work better if Sarah were inclined to spare his efforts a glance now and again.

She had been completely ignoring him, alternating between restless pacing and moping against her passenger door, casting hateful looks at the packages and bags stuffed into the backseat. If Jeff didn't know better, he would almost think she was laying the blame for her misfortune on her purchases.

"It's alright, Jeff, really. I don't think the problem is something you can fix anyways," she said distractedly, waving a hand and staring off into the distance. He frowned slightly in confusion, walking over to stand in her line of sight as he bent over to peek at the underside of her car.

"Do you think it's a fuel line, or something?" he asked, grease accentuated bottom proudly on display. "There's no leaking…"

"No. What probably happened is I pissed off some vindictive deity and he sent goblins to sabotage my car with magic," she said, and Jeff laughed, pleased that she was making an effort to joke her way into a better mood, and decided to give up on forcing the grease angle. Apparently, the Danny Zuko approach was simply not going to work.

"Well, let me call you a tow truck, then. I know a guy who can be here in fifteen minutes, and won't charge a dime," he offered, claiming the free door beside her as a leaning post. She smiled in a 'thanks,-but-I-couldn't-ask-that' manner, and started voicing an objection, to which he held up a non-negotiable hand.

"Ah, I insist. It's no trouble, and it gives me an excuse to hang out with a gorgeous girl, which is an opportunity I'd never pass up," he said with a charming grin, and promptly dialed the tow truck before she could reply. She sighed and gave him a grateful smile as he relayed the necessary information and concluded his call.

"All set. He should be here soon," he assured her, giving her a 'no-problem,-it's-my-pleasure' smile in return. "So, do you mind my asking why you have a party store stashed in your car?"

Sarah smiled guiltily and glanced at the masses of bags crammed into her backseat. "They're for the, ah, kids I watch. To keep them entertained," she explained. Jeff peered at the numerous acquisitions.

"They must have really tiny attention spans," he commented.

"You have no idea," she said wryly.

Frowning, he squinted at the front passenger seat. Was that…?

"Sarah, it that a pickle with _hair_?" he asked, trying very hard to think of a valid reason to have a furry pickle in your car, and failing.

Sarah laughed nervously, rubbing a hand over her face. "Uhm, yeah. It's a gift from one of the kids. He, ahm, keeps it as a pet," she explained. Jeff cast her a look.

"That's… sweet of him," he managed. Sarah laughed, chagrined.

"He hasn't been able to come over, lately, and he didn't want me to get lonely, so he lent me his pickle. It actually is sweet, in a health violation sort of way," she said.

"I see." Jeff tried not to make a 'wow,-that's-weird-and-kinda-gross' face.

He reminded himself that Sarah's quirky, youthful nature was what he was attracted to as he straightened and steeled himself to say the words, "Well, let's move all this to my car, then."

Sarah was worth the contamination. Of course. No question. The pickle was welcome because it was _Sarah's_ pickle, fuzzy or no.

But it was nonetheless a challenge not to cringe as she set it on his dashboard.

***

Really, Jeff was a trooper. Not only had he put up with my cold demeanor adding to the frigid temperatures, but he had _volunteered_ to help me transfer my obscene amount of goods not once, but _twice_, without complaint - the first instance being in the parking lot of the party store I had just supported for the next several months, and the second involving the unnecessary amount of stairs and unmaneuverable corners that led to my unusually goblin-free apartment.

And he hadn't once said anything about my obsession with that nasty pickle, despite the greasy mark it had left on his dashboard.

Most definitely, a trooper of the highest quality.

It took us three trips to get all of my bags upstairs to my apartment, and by the time we were standing, panting slightly, surveying the beginnings of a joke shop that made up my living room, I had already considered and dismissed asking him to stay for hot tea several times. It felt callous of me not to, but it would be worse to encourage his little crush, right…?

"You know, on the plus side of this, if I ever get tired of the publishing business, I now have experience as a mover," he said, breaking what was threatening to turn into an awkward silence as he leaned against my wall. He gave me a grin as I laughed, though to my own ears it sounded a little strained. I hoped he would assume it was stress over my Car-O'-Crap situation.

I again weighed the merits of inviting him to stay a while - he was already in my apartment, how much damage could it do? - when he checked his watch in the universal 'gotta run' gesture. I really hoped I didn't actually sag in relief as I realized I wouldn't have to boot him out.

"Listen, I've got an appointment I have to get to," he started, and I smiled, shaking my head.

"Don't worry about it, go ahead. Thanks so much for your help," I said, and made a 'shooing' motion with my hands. He smiled and grabbed one of my flopping wrists, tugging gently before I withdrew.

"You're coming with me, Sarah," he told me, and I blinked.

"Is it a publishing appointment? It's not about that stupid segment they keep running, is it? Because if it is, I'm telling you right now, I am _sick-_"

"No, silly, you aren't coming to the meeting, and it isn't for an hour anyways." Jeff's eyes, already attractive in their own, un-dangerously matchy sort of way, suddenly grew hooded and hot, marinating themselves in a 'come hither' look that probably fluttered the hearts of every female in a two-mile radius.

"You're coming home with me," he said.

I blinked again.

"Oh…ahm… I, uh, I know my heating isn't functioning right, but, I'm okay here, I mean…" I floundered, feeling my cheeks brushing up on their molten lava impersonation. The portion of my brain tasked with getting me out of awkward situations was currently spewing lies a mile a minute, trying to generate a believable reason _not_ to go to his house, and seemed perilously close to needing to run around in circles like a goblin.

Jeff laughed at me, and shook his head. "Oh, sorry, Sarah, but it was too easy," he said, grinning at my mortified glare. "What I meant was, you're driving me home, so I can get my other car and you can borrow the Challenger," he said, and twirled the keys around his finger.

I stared.

"Borrow the Challenger?" I repeated. A giddy little voice inside me started chanting _YesYesYES! _while waving a _'Jeff's 1' _flag decorated with hearts and speedometers, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming protests of a Reality Check.

"Are you insane?! I can't do that!" I objected incredulously. I couldn't possibly accept this - not only would it put me in far too much debt to be comfortable with, the gesture carried an implied familiarity that I was trying to discourage.

"It sort of seems like I'm the one who should decide that, being that I own the car and all," he said, a teasing glint in his baby blues.

I rolled my eyes. "Quit being funny. It's not cute," I said sharply, crossing my arms. He smirked in a manner that said he knew perfectly well it was cute, and that he liked that I thought it was cute, and that he had every intention of continuing. I contemplated biting my tongue off, before it got me into any more trouble. "And I'm not borrowing your _Challenger_. What if I wrecked it?" I demanded, trying really hard not to be flattered at his askance look.

"I feel fairly certain you could handle an eighteen wheeler in a blizzard, Sarah. Besides, I've let you drive it before. You didn't object then," he pointed out. I opened and closed my mouth several times, though no justifiable arguments came to mind.

"Well, you were in the car, then," I managed lamely. Jeff smirked at me.

"If it'll make you feel better, I can put a cardboard cutout of me with a terrified face in the passenger seat," he offered. I glared at him for a few moments, before deciding on a measured truth.

"I hardly know you. This isn't the sort of thing that people who hardly know each other do," I said finally. Jeff laughed exasperatedly.

"I'm not asking you to fool around in the back of my car, Sarah! I'm offering to let you use it until you can find an alternate means of transportation," he said, and recaptured my hand, dropping the keys in my palm and folding my fingers over them. "Now accept my generosity graciously and drive me to my house, before I'm late for the meeting," he chided.

The giddy little voice waved it's flag hopefully as my resistance wavered and cracked, and after a moment of futile waffling, I gave in and let it bound about in unabashed elation.

Rolling my eyes, I tucked the keys in my pocket and grabbed my coat back up. "Fine, if you're gonna twist my arm about it, I'll drive your damn car. But when it comes back to you with double the mileage, I expect no complaints," I warned. Jeff grinned, hooking his thumbs in his jeans and looking thoroughly satisfied with himself.

And, suddenly, I noticed he was covered in grease.

Well, not _covered_, but certainly sporting an inordinate amount for the short time he'd been poking around in my useless car, at least. I couldn't help but notice it looked good on him, though - highlighting his strong features and bright eyes, making his chest look delightfully touchable and lending his legs the same characteristic, and - was that a smear on his butt, too?

The suave business man had been replaced by a rugged, masculine mechanic who looked like he could handle a woman and a muscle car with equal skill, and knew it.

He looked - well, _hot_.

A sudden image of me behind the wheel of the Challenger, with one hand on the wheel and one hand on Jeff's thigh, implanted itself in my brain and had me grinning like an idiot. Before I could reign it in, the thigh shifted to belong not to the man in my apartment, but to the slender, leonine Goblin King, and I grinned wider.

I could just imagine how Jareth would react to a six-cylinder blazing full throttle along an empty stretch of blacktop.

My fingertips tingled in anticipation, and quite abruptly, I couldn't _wait_ to get Jeff home.

***

Jeff couldn't hide a wry smile as Sarah _finally_ noticed his strategic grime placement. It seemed cars were the way to her heart, after all; he felt reasonably sure that, despite her objections, she was actually thrilled at the idea of borrowing his Challenger, if the gleeful shine in her smile was any indication. He knew she'd probably end up doing more joy-riding in it than actually using it for necessities, but he didn't mind; what good was a car like his, if it wasn't being enjoyed? And recalling Sarah's hungry, bright-lit eyes as his powerful machine roared in her hands down the highway, he was fairly certain she would most definitely be enjoying herself.

And she'd be thinking of him while she did, which was worth just about anything she did to the car.

She was practically skipping by the time they reached his vehicle, and he smiled affectionately at her.

"You do realize that if you keep up this kid-on-Christmas-morning thing, I'm going to hire a cop to follow you around and amiably remind you of the speed limit every few minutes," he teased.

Sarah scoffed. "Speed limits are for people who don't know how to handle their vehicles," she informed him as she slid into the driver's seat. Jeff chuckled.

"That's a pretty unstable argument, sweetheart," he replied, settling in the passenger seat and immediately securing his seatbelt a little tighter than usual. He glanced at Sarah, noting her uncomfortable face at his casual endearment, and sighed inwardly. Apparently, sacrificing his car to her speed-demon tendencies hadn't bought him as much favor as he'd planned. "Though, I'd gladly pay off the ticket to see you sell that to a cop," he said, trying to recapture her easy confidence.

Sarah gave a forced little laugh. "You're assuming they'd catch me at all. You're logic is clearly flawed, Jeff," she replied, and he didn't miss the stiff way she said his name - _friends, but that's all_.

Jeff smiled wryly. "I get the feeling you're practically impossible to catch," he muttered.

Sarah laughed once. "Just about," she agreed. _You're efforts are futile, sucker._

He tried not to pout. This was so unfair.

***

I felt a little bad for Jeff as we pulled up to his house; it was blatantly obvious he was trying to flirt with me, and it was equally blatant that I was feigning ignorance. The poor guy couldn't help it that he wasn't my type.

I smiled apologetically at him as he unbuckled himself. "Thanks again, Jeff. I really appreciate this," I said sincerely. Jeff grinned slyly at me.

"Don't be too grateful, now; I don't do favors for free," he said, his tone virtually dripping with sensuality, and my stomach suddenly did a Titanic impersonation.

"O-oh?" I stumbled, my fingers twitching to throw the car in park and run like the wind if he suggested…

"You see, I had a dinner reservation with a client of mine, who unfortunately rescheduled on me. I could cancel it, but it would ruin my reputation there, so I still plan to go - and I find myself in need of a date," he clarified. My stomach regained a little buoyancy - that was better than what I'd been thinking, at least - but I still shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, uhm, well, I…" _Think, Sarah, think!_

Jeff practically deflated at my bumbling excuses, and my insides twitched guiltily. Here the guy was letting me borrow his classic muscle car, which he and his deceased grandfather had rebuilt together and was probably worth more than my car and apartment combined, not to mention the sentimental value - and was only asking for dinner in return.

Was I _really_ that ungrateful?

"Uhm, what day? I'll clear my schedule," I said finally, and was proud of myself for not sounding the least bit pressured.

"Wednesday," he replied, sounding distinctly relieved.

"Done," I said, and held out a hand, smiling. He grinned back and shook it.

"Done," he agreed, and with a wink, climbed out of his car and strutted (really, there was no other word) into his house.

I sat for a moment longer as I tried to reign in the desire to immediately call Jareth and whip him around every twisty back road I could find, and told myself that I wasn't a misleading wretch with as much conviction as a misleading wretch could manage.

Sadly, it wasn't much.

Putting the car (_I'm driving a Challenger, I'm driving a Challenger!_) in gear, I started on a circuitous route back to my apartment, and firmly told myself I was being stupid. After all, he was doing this because it was nice and gentlemanly. Jeff was a nice, gentlemanly guy. Therefore, it made perfect sense for him to act as such.

After all, he had never _really_ made a pass at me, had he? Sure, he had given me flowers, and taken me to coffee, and lent me his car, and asked me to dinner, but that didn't _really_ mean anything, right?

I sighed heavily.

"Shit."

***

It took me the better part of an hour to finally make it home, and by the time I managed to pry myself from behind the wheel, I had fairly well cheered myself up and was firmly convinced that all of the circumstantial evidence proving that Jeff had a thing for me, and therefore needed to be discouraged, was purely coincidence, and I was being silly.

And now that I was convinced, I was not going to think about it until Wednesday, and I damn well was going to enjoy my loaner car to the fullest extent.

After fixing myself an Adults Only mug of cocoa, I sat down on the living room floor with a map of the surrounding countryside, and proceeded to plot a course to take Jareth on.

His Sparkliness was in for a _ride_.

I wished it were warmer out, so we could take advantage of the convertible's soft top, but the frigid temperatures outside sort of discouraged letting the wind blow through your hair. I glanced out the window, wondering how severe the magical backlash would be if I had Jareth bring up a draft of warm air from Hawaii or something…

"Alas…" I sighed wistfully. Domino perked his head up from his position sprawled on the couch, quirking his head inquisitively hopeful manner.

"No, puppy. I said 'alas', not 'who wants some yummy food that is probably extremely unhealthy for your species'," I said. He chuffed disappointedly and laid his head back down on his paws, looking forlornly at the wall.

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, stop, you ham. You just had pancakes and bacon this morning," I chided. Domino's eyes glazed dreamily, and he licked his chops in memory. I laughed and hauled myself up off the floor, rubbing his head as I walked by him to the bathroom, my bladder alerting me that I'd had one too many spiked hot cocoas, and consequences were imminent. As I closed the door, my eyes automatically went to the beautiful cut-glass bowl and the nearly gone lavender leaves, and I smiled in the dreamy manner Domino had when he thought about bacon. Those bath leaves were fabulous - I swore my skin had gotten noticeably softer in the past week, and I was fairly certain I was permanently lavender-scented now.

As a result of my mild inebriation, my mind wasn't quick enough to stomp out the absentminded sigh that slipped out, accompanied by the thought that I really wanted to see Jareth again.

And not just for a car ride.

Quickly, I shook my head clear and shoved those destructive thoughts on the back burners where they belonged. It was self-defense; if I thought too much about him, I'd wind up going mad, I was sure of it. Next thing I knew, I'd be strategically placing an enormous chair in the center of my living room, decorating with glitter, and using a minimum of three cans of hairspray per day.

When I returned to the living room, I found Domino peering happily under my coffee table, tail wagging a mile a minute, and my meticulously inspected map artfully accented with a fuzzy pickle.

I grinned widely as I heard a hushed giggle from the direction of my kitchen, followed by the distinct sound of my pantry door being opened.

My goblins were back.

***

Edgar Bruin was in a decidedly good mood. His _Modern Hits in Opera_ CD had finally arrived, the shade of sand he needed, Magnificent Mauve, for the final touches on his sand portrait was in stock, and his upstairs neighbor had been silent all week.

Not once, in the past six days, had his porcelain kitten collection been rattled off the shelves, nor his Elvis clocks been banged from their perches, nor his strategically placed shell wind chimes tangled from forceful bouncing.

It was possible that the blizzard had prevented those noisy, horrible children from being dropped off at her apartment, but he was giving her the benefit of the doubt this one last time. Perhaps his recent talk with that young Williams woman had finally gotten through. Perhaps she had finally developed a respect for other people's desire for serenity, and would no longer force the chaos she routinely indulged in upon her fellow apartment dwellers. Perhaps she would finally mature, shed her childish ways and get a decent, legitimate job, rather than spouting that drivel she called children's literature.

Edgar winced as there was a sudden, wall-shaking crash from directly over his living room, followed by a series of _thumps_ and _screech_es, and what could only be described as a battle cry. His porcelain kittens quaked on their wooden shelving.

Perhaps pigs would fly.

***

"Have at thee, you foul beasts! I'll never surrender!" I crowed, boasting my assumed victory despite the fact that I was beset by no less than four goblins, all armed with plastic swords and a week of pent-up energy.

"Get the Lady! Get the Lady!" cheered Dizz from the sidelines, where there were a dozen other battles being waged, and I took a brief moment to cast an arch look his way.

"Silence, infidel! You shall be dealt with accordingly after I conquer your peers," I informed him. He looked vaguely worried for a moment, before he was bowled over by a group of goblins who were using their swords more like baseball bats than bladed weapons, and promptly forgot all about needling me.

Darting forward in a quick thrust, I de-limbed one of my opponents, and as he stumbled around in melodramatic agony, I sliced off his head and laughed in victory as he plopped to the floor and pouted, grinning fearsomely at the three remainders. They cast anxious looks between each other.

"Thinking we run?" Tooka asked his comrades, who contemplated the values of tucking tail for a moment, before Dizz re-entered the fight, leading the band of Babe Ruth's who had trampled him, and sounding a battle cry.

"_Ahhhhyeahh_!" They screeched simultaneously, and rushed me as I scrabbled up onto the couch for a better vantage point.

"Hey! Seven against one! That's _so_ not fair!" I objected, forced to hop as one of my opponents lobbed off my foot.

A decidedly squeaky Tarzan yell erupted from behind me, and I looked back to tell my new attacker that rear assaults were _most_ unsportsmanlike, when Ziggy scrabbled up beside me and waved his sword defiantly.

"I will help the Lady Sarah!" he declared, and promptly began swinging energetically at anything within arm's reach, and actually doing impressive damage.

The tide of the battle now turned, my morale recovered and, together with my little defender, the onslaught of unfairly numbered goblins withered until Ziggy and I stood victorious. We stood one-legged, one-armed, and badly unbalanced, but victorious nonetheless. I surveyed my conquered opponents with a contented smile.

"Who wants cocoa?"

* * *

**AN: **I am ashamed. There is no excuse. Well, there is, but it's lame, and I'd rather just not mention it, to be honest. Chapter nine is nearly done, (literally only a paragraph or two left) and should be posted by next week. Promise. And I love you all. Very much. :D

**MayFeiScarlette**: Sorry for the extended wait, darling, and thank you for your patience. :D

**freak-4-God**: Oh, stop, am I blushing? :) Thank you, darling!

**lindzxcheshire**: You're review made me smile, haha. :) (And really, the crop is such a give-away, isn't it?)

**Her Royal Goddess **: Hehe, sorry darling, but I'm afraid all the 'lemony goodness' is being withheld until a later date. ;)

**MusicLuverJMarie17**: Haha! Glad you enjoyed, darling.

**Cybernetic Mango**: Oh! I'm so jealous! You have no idea how long I've wanted to be a cyborg... (Really, though, is all well, darling?)

**Camcalli**: XD Sorry for making you wait for this one, too! (And it is of course open to interpretation, but I was leaning toward terrified longing, myself, I think. :D) And the long awaited confrontation will be the chapter after next, if all goes accordingly!

**Lil'VanHelsing**: Oh, goodness. Please don't die. I'm terrible at CPR. Especially while distracted by a tutu-clad Jareth. (Is that _all_ he's wearing? :D)

**Tsohg**: Haha, it was a bit of a shock, hmm? And thank you oodles, darling!

**J Luc Pitard**: Haha! I'm sure she appreciates your stance. :)

**DanceQueen105**: Thank you, darling!

**Princesspunkinpatch**: Glad you enjoyed, m'dear! And apparently, I _ should _have rushed, hehe.

**TrashedXandXScattered**: :D

**Lov2Catnap:** ;)

**Insanityfairy**: Hah! Manoff! I think this is the new official term, hehe!

**Notwritten**: Thank you darling, I shall. :)

**GreenEyedGrimKitty**: Indeed, Sarah is quite stalwart in the face of destruction. I probably wouldn't give myself thirty seconds.

**Nanenna:** Thank you, darling! :) I adore flattery, haha. And the Jareth-Domino parts are probably my favorite thing to write, haha! (Well, aside from gratuitous sexual tension, of course)


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Oh good gravy NO I don't own Labyrinth. Or the moon. But I'm telling you, just as soon as they start auctioning off bits of either one of them, I am _there._

**

* * *

Chapter Nine**

Jareth had yet to make an appearance.

The goblins had been back for two whole days, forty-eight _entire_ hours, and there had been not a single glittery hint of their king.

I was starting to get a little discouraged.

Operation: Speed Demon had been meticulously plotted and perfected, covering not only which roads I intended to take, but what music we would listen to, what I was going to wear, and even how I was going to get Jareth into the car.

But it was entirely dependent on him actually _showing up_.

As I lingered over drying an owl-printed coffee mug, I admitted I might be sulking just a bit, and sighed.

"This is silly, Sarah," I told myself firmly, and put the mug away. "You have plenty of things to keep you occupied. Besides, it's sort of immoral to be using one guy's borrowed car to take another guy on a joyride, isn't it?" I argued, but found myself glancing longingly at the folded-up map on the kitchen table anyways.

I growled.

_Bloody sap,_ I chastised myself, turning back to my dishes.

Perhaps sensing my emotional turmoil, Domino trotted out from my bedroom, happily gnawing on his favorite chew toy (an old shoe he'd wrested away from a goblin) and dropped his front paws, wiggling his butt in the air and growling playfully. _Come on, Mom, let's play!_

I smiled apologetically and turned around, reaching for my towel. "Not now, Mister Puppy, Momma's got to do dishes," I told him, sneaking a glance over my shoulder. His tail had stopped wagging and his cute little head was cocked to the side in confusion. He whined inquisitively. I reached to put a couple of glasses in the sink, moving as slowly as I could, before whipping around without warning and dropping into an aggressive crouch, growling at my puppy.

He immediately hunkered back down, tail wagging excitedly again, and growled back, grinning around the shoe at me.

I took a quick step forward, tensed to chase him if he bolted. He leaned backwards but held his ground. He growled in challenge.

I lunged.

Of course, my ungainly human limbs weren't nearly as quick as his evolution-perfected hunter's physique, and he raced off to run around my coffee table. I pursued, laughing as my socks slid on the linoleum kitchen floor.

"Resistance is futile! The shoe will be mine!" I crowed, and Domino gave a muffled bark in response. I chased him into my room and over my bed, diving around the bed post at the last second and snatching the shoe as he ran by.

"Hah!" I yelled in triumph, and tore off back into the living room, leaping over the couch and dashing into the kitchen, intending to duck down and hide. I was going too fast, though, and my socks held no purchase on the slick floor, so I used my momentum and jumped onto the island that separated my living room and kitchen, rolling over the countertop and landing back on the carpeted floor.

I felt a twinge of regret that there was no one here but my puppy to see it - I couldn't have duplicated that move for a million bucks.

I heard Domino's nails clicking on the tile and his surprised bark, and I ran back towards my bedroom to hide before he located me -

And nearly collided with the tall blonde man suddenly standing in my living room.

I shrieked and backpedaled, tripping over my feet and toppling backwards, crashing over the back of my couch and falling gracelessly to the floor, my legs still tangled amongst the couch cushions. I lay there for a moment, simply appreciating the myriad of aches I had just developed.

"Sarah!" I heard Jareth exclaim, and I decided I liked that he sounded worried.

"Could you _not_ do that, maybe?" I grouched as I tried to convince myself that moving was a good idea, with dubious progress. Domino trotted over to me, growling as he passed Jareth, and licked my chin. I pushed him off and patted his head in thanks, tossing his shoe in the direction of my bedroom. He cast a warning glance at Jareth before going after it.

Jareth grinned in an entirely unapologetic manner and leaned casually against my couch, completely ignoring my puppy.

"Sorry, Princess, but you just startle so energetically. It's extremely entertaining," he said. I tried to glower at him, but he was too busy molding his eyes over my hips and crash-exposed stomach to notice it.

Blushing, I wondered if there were other reasons for making me tumble around as well. I straightened and moved my limbs into a less compromising position, cocking an eyebrow at Jareth when he finally made eye contact.

"Enjoy the view?" I asked with a smirk. Jareth grinned in a hungry, butterfly-inducing manner, leaning forward.

"Quite," he replied in that silk-and-sin voice of his, and I shivered involuntarily, feeling things that should not be affected by him press against my shirt and betray my reaction. I hurriedly rolled over and clambered to my feet.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to make an appearance," I said coolly as I brushed myself off. He arched an eyebrow, and I felt a momentary jealous pang that he could convey such amused arrogance with something as simple as a single freaking eyebrow.

"Implying you missed me, precious thing?" he asked lowly, stepping close to me and eying my neck as though it were a decidedly tempting treat, and I felt my legs go a tad wobbly.

_YES_, my hormones screeched, while the pebbled things against my shirtfront started doing an impressive impersonation of the Eiffel Tower as they tried to go to him. I mentally chastised them, and tried to convert them to moderate hills instead.

Doing my best to look like I was utterly unaffected, I rolled my eyes and brushed past him to the table and picked up a green silk scarf I'd dug out of my closet a few days ago in preparation.

"Close your eyes," I told Jareth as I walked back to him, holding the scarf up to tie around his eyes.

He looked at the makeshift blindfold and smiled at me in a decidedly naughty manner.

"Sarah?" he said in a curious,-but-not-at-all-opposed-to-bondage tone, while his teeth glinted distractingly.

I blushed furiously. "It's not what you think," I said quickly. Jareth gave me a vaguely disbelieving look, but obligingly closed his eyes. He stood cooperatively still until I had secured the fabric before spinning around with disconcerting speed, wrapping an arm around my waist and holding me a good deal closer than was entirely comfortable.

He leaned down, and for an exhilarating, terrifying second, I was absolutely sure he was going to kiss me, but he veered at the last moment and bent to my neck. I could feel his exhaled breath on my skin, and chill bumps tingled into existence over every inch of my flesh. His hair brushed against my lips, teasing and tickling, and my quickened, irregular breath fluttered the strands. I could feel my heart doing an energetic tap-dance against my ribs, and the molten lava that had replaced my blood was slowly creeping up into my cheeks.

I felt him inhale, skimming from my jaw to my shoulder. He paused for a moment, his lips a mere fraction of an inch from my skin, and made a quietly pleased, masculine sound of approval, sending a little thrilling jolt through me. I remembered hearing that the other senses magnified when one was denied, and I wondered vaguely what I smelled like to him.

"Honey and sunlight," he said softly, and I realized belatedly that I had asked my question out loud. "And lavender bubble bath. I take it you've enjoyed my gift?" he said, a little teasingly.

"Very much," I agreed, smiling, and decided that the breathy quality to my voice indicated a need for a bit of personal space. "Now, I would be much obliged if you would release me, Goblin King. I sort of had something planned, here."

Jareth's eyebrows were even more expressive while wearing a blindfold. "Indeed?" he said, and I was sure he was thinking of all sorts of extremely entertaining pastimes involving a lot of energy and very little clothing.

I was very glad he was wearing that blindfold.

"Indeed," I confirmed.

"And you're certain I must let go of you for this?" he asked reluctantly.

"_Yes,_ Jareth," I said, and grinned. "Trust me. I've got a surprise."

* * *

"Could you not have led me down here and _then_ blindfolded me?"

"Just shut up and walk," I said exasperatedly, leading the sightless Jareth down the stairs of my apartment building, perhaps just a tad quicker than was safe - between his incessant heckling while I was changing clothes, and his smart remarks about my planning abilities, the idea of watching His Nibs topple down the stairs had become rather appealing.

"I only mean that this seems a bit -"

I stopped, releasing his hand and propping my fists on my hips angrily, despite the fact that he couldn't see the gesture through the silk scarf I'd tied around his head. He halted at the lack of guidance, and his hand twitched for a moment, as though he planned to take off the blindfold, but instead he returned it to his side and stood nonchalantly.

"Jareth, if you say one more word before we reach the bottom of these stairs, I'm going to trip you and laugh uproariously while you tumble ass-over-teakettle all the way down, am I clear?"

He smirked, cocking an eyebrow above his blindfold. "Quite."

"Good," I nodded sharply, seizing his gloved hand again and tugging him the rest of the way down the steps.

I opened the building's front door and smiled at the warm breeze and sunshiney goodness that met me on the other side, sighing happily. Over the past two days, I had spent every spare moment hoping and wheedling and begging whatever deity might be listening to grant me a bit of unseasonably warm weather to counter the unseasonably frigid weather the goblins had incurred. Apparently, they had decided this morning that I had suffered enough for a while, and granted my desperate pleas.

Jareth lifted the edge of the blindfold with his thumb, tilting his head back and peering around. "Am I allowed to speak, yet?"

I smacked his hand away and pulled him towards the Challenger. "That depends on what you're going to say," I retorted, digging the keys out of my pocket and releasing Jareth's hand to open the door. "If it's something smart, overtly suggestive, needling, or sarcastic, then I continue with your sentence of silence."

"You could have simply said no."

"That qualifies under the 'smart' category. Silence," I said with a smile, and pulled off his blindfold, presenting the car in my best Vanna White impression.

Jareth blinked in the sudden brightness for a moment, glanced at the car, and firmly glued his eyes to my legs, exactly as I planned.

I've got legs a mile long, and I know how to use them.

Thanks to the beautiful weather, I was able to break out a pair of flatteringly brief shorts, strategically chosen to create an inviting place to rest one's hand, should they be looking for one while sitting next to me. My gams didn't quite have the Goddess O' Bronze tan I'll acquire in the summer, but I knew I still looked quite enticing.

Grinning, I cocked a hand on my hip. "The car is the surprise attraction, Jareth. Not my thighs," I quipped. Jareth shook his head.

"The contraption may be the surprise, but _you_, my precious thing," he paused, meeting my eyes and grinning in his hungry, feral manner, "are the _attraction_." The smooth sound of his voice slid across my skin and pooled behind my knees, and I started to doubt my ability to continue standing. He stepped forward, running his tongue over his pointed teeth, and I suddenly wondered if I would _taste_ like honey, too.

"Right, in the car," I said hurriedly, darting around to my side and leaving Jareth to settle his own excessively sensual butt in the passenger seat. This was getting a bit dangerous - flirting with Jareth was like juggling a loaded gun, and contemplating anything more than that was like trying to floss with it. While I was intellectually quite aware of the risk, the purely instinctual part of me was responding in an enthusiastically careless manner. Honestly, if he didn't give my brain a little time to reboot in between hormone tsunamis, King Glitter-Pants was going to be unceremoniously jumped, and there was nothing my higher reasoning could do about it.

I waited until Jareth had closed his door before turning the ignition, and nearly groaned as the heavy vibrations of the six-cylinder rumbled through me. My fingertips tingled in anticipation, and as I put the car in gear, I realized I had a huge, Cheshire grin plastered on my face, and that Jareth looked particularly delectable sitting in next to me in the muscle car.

Once more, I briefly wondered if this may have been a bad idea, before winking at a slightly worried-looking Goblin King and hitting the gas. He let out a mildly terrified sound as the car shot forward, and I threw my head back, laughing in exhilaration.

"Hang on, Your Highness!"

* * *

The roaring beast Jareth sat in was a bit out of his area of expertise, but he was beginning to figure out which devices caused and controlled what reactions, and he had to admit, his Sarah seemed quite adept at handling the monster. He was continuously, but pleasantly, surprised that the contraption managed to stay on course, despite it's excessive speed around the tight curves and sudden turns. It was vaguely terrifying, but he found that in a perverse sort of way, he was enjoying himself - albeit not quite as much as his companion.

Sarah, the strange creature, was positively glowing.

Sunlight seemed to soak into her and emanate from her smile, kissing her cheeks and coloring them attractively in her excitement. The wind rallied around her, streaming her hair back from her lovely, delighted face, plucking eagerly at her clothes, teasing her thrilled voice from her and tossing it playfully past him as she laughed. She was ethereal and eldritch, a lost deity of power and vigor reincarnated in jean shorts and a tee-shirt, riding the wind on metal wings.

It was a rather enlightening sight. Things were beginning to _click_ into place in Jareth's mind, and he rather hoped the implications of his insights would be less apparent to his hot-headed companion. Determinedly, he pushed the worrisome thoughts aside for later contemplation, unwilling to risk Sarah questioning him and ruining her current good mood.

This was easily the happiest Jareth had ever seen her, and her good spirits were rather infectious. He found that he was tensing less around the narrow turns, and grinning as the beast leapt forward at her lightest touch, despite the nagging feeling that they were going to wind up horribly mangled on one of the many trees they whipped past.

He laughed as the road flew beneath them, gathering speed, and winked at Sarah as she turned to look at him. She beamed at him, her green eyes alight and vibrant, and Jareth suddenly found the desire to kiss her nearly overwhelming.

He turned back to the path in front of them to avoid acting on the badly-timed impulse -

And stiffened in abject terror as he realized the road bent sharply in about two and a half seconds.

He instinctively latched onto Sarah's leg, preparing to translocate them out of an assuredly painful death, with or without the metal beast, but Sarah merely laughed and spun the steering device effortlessly, molding the car around the curve with expert ease.

* * *

I knew Jareth would enjoy himself.

Granted, he seemed more than a little apprehensive at first, but he got over it eventually, grinning in the speed-drunk manner I had perfected in my teen years, and even laughing when I coaxed the lovely machine up to the hundreds.

And Operation 'Thigh Fondle' had worked _flawlessly._

Though, it admittedly had unexpected side-effects. I really hadn't allowed myself to think to much past the 'Jareth will be touching my thigh' part, and after he had protectively clutched me, neither of us seemed particularly keen to cease the contact, and it was really quite distracting. Not to mention the 'I would most definitely kiss you senseless would it not induce _death_ right now' moment immediately beforehand, which was still sending little flutters through my stomach when I thought about it.

The asphalt Labyrinth of twisted, coiling back roads I had chosen, plus the inordinate speed the Challenger demanded, equaled a hella good time. Throw distraction into the equation, however, and it was a recipe for painful, agonizing failure. I lived for danger, and nothing held a candle to the siren song of an open throttle and a deserted stretch of winding blacktop, and all, but it seemed a little more like expecting not to be burned by fire to keep driving this enthusiastically while not exactly in full control of my facilities. Therefore, I edited my route to less challenging roads and kept my speed out of the reckless range, allowing my gutter-bound mind to concentrate on other things with relative safety. Things such as Jareth's fingers, which were ever-so-lightly skimming along my leg, occasionally straying further to the inside of my thigh and causing my muscles to clench pleasantly. Or the distinctly erotic glances he kept throwing me, speeding up my heartbeat and heating my face. They were looks that quite clearly said, "_I intend to completely devour you, and you are going to enjoy it __**immensely**_." And truth be told, I had probably shot back a glance or two subtitled "_Let's go, then_."

Needless to say, by the time we got back to my apartment building, I was running pretty hot.

I parked the car, maybe just a tad jittery, and noticed with mild dismay that my hands were slightly shaky. I reluctantly decided that I may be a little nervous. For over half of the drive, Jareth had been giving off clear signals that if it weren't for the likelihood of obliteration in a particularly unpleasant manner, he would currently be engaging me in a mutually satisfying, intense lip lock, and now that the survival excuse had been taken away, was he going to make good on his promise? Did I (not including my libido) want him to? What did it mean, among gorgeously tight-panted kings, to be sucking face with a mortal? And did we apply to those standards?

Jareth leaned over, his hand still hot and teasing on my thigh, and stopped his face mere inches from mine. I could hear my obvious shortness of breath painfully well in the quiet made by the absence of roaring wind, and I was fairly certain my face was probably about ten shades of red. Jareth's eyes bored into mine, hooded and sensual in a predatory way, before slowly traveling down to my lips, which held his attention equally intensely. They seemed suddenly unbearably dry under his scrutiny, as though the heat from his undivided attention had burned the moisture from them, and I licked them instinctively. A dark, sensually primal look settled on his features, and he moved closer, our breath mingling as it grew yet shorter.

"This," he murmured, his voice low enough to make me shiver, "was a lovely surprise, Sarah." He drew his head to the side, brushing his lips along my jaw, giving my thigh a gentle squeeze -

And then he was gone.

I sat for a moment, utterly at a loss and still panting and embarrassingly aroused, before growling and slamming the heel of my palm into the steering wheel.

"Three times! That's _three bloody times!_" I snarled to Jareth's empty seat. "The next time you get all Sexy-Impending-Kiss on me, you _damn well _had better deliver. Dammit."

I peeled myself off the leather and stormed up to my apartment, grumbling and swearing and still wanting to be thoroughly molested by the Goblin King.

I stopped abruptly.

That was the problem.

In point of fact, I wanted to be molested by (and to possibly molest in return) _Jareth_, not the _Goblin King_. I was more than ready to work Jareth into a state of arousal so acute it actually _hurt_, but I was scared to even kiss the Goblin King. Unfortunately, they sort of happened to be the same person.

Frowning, I slowly resumed walking as I mulled this revelation over. It wasn't so much that I was scared of Jareth _being_ the Goblin King, as I was the station itself. Among humans, royalty married royalty, or at least those of high status - end of story. Oh, sure, there were movies about the Prince and the Really Lucky Waitress, but everyone knew it was a load of bull. If you were really a waitress in love with a prince, you wound up his mistress.

I had no intention of being anyone's mistress, unreasonably sexy king or no.

I sighed. Could I broach the subject with Jareth? _That _would be horribly uncomfortable. And what if I didn't like the answer? Would we be friends? _Could_ I be friends with someone I routinely thought about naked?

I pursed my lips, cocking my head as I fished my keys out.

Probably not.

And on the flipside, it wasn't like I wanted to marry Jareth and become Queen of the Goblins, anyhow. I wasn't in _love_ with him. I just wanted to ravish him senseless. Hot, sweaty, no stings attached, wham-bam-thank-you-Your-Highness sex.

Right?

* * *

The goblins were running amuck.

Ever since he'd returned from that exhilarating, terrifying ride with his future Queen, the stupid creatures had been singing and dancing in extremely lewd, distracting merriment, and he'd had quite enough.

"Any goblin, dwarf, fairy, or creature aside from myself still in this throne room ten seconds from now will be bogged," Jareth said irritably, and the next seven seconds were a jumbled mess of squeaks and screams as everyone stampeded for the exits, be it another dimension, a doorway, or a window, and tried not to be the last one left in the room. Tired of waiting, Jareth sort of scrunched up the remaining three seconds and bogged about a dozen or so of his subjects unlucky enough to still be lingering.

Silence settled, and the Goblin King reclined in his throne, draping himself in a regally slouchy style across the seat and conjuring a crystal.

Idly watching the lovely dark-haired woman climb the several flights of stairs to her home, her legs moving in a decidedly interesting manner, Jareth pursed his lips thoughtfully.

Sarah was frightened of him.

Well, wary of him, in any case. She didn't seem particularly worried about him tossing bespelled, bladed machines at her (really, he did need to apologize for that incident), but he had the distinct feeling of a predator closing in on a cornered rabbit as they sat in that speeding monster of hers. Throughout the drive she had been quite the willing tease, but when he finally leaned in to kiss her…

He sighed. Why had she suddenly turned into a wide-eyed doe? He hadn't been overly forward with her, and even in court, the women -

Jareth blinked.

"Ah," he said quietly, resting his jaw on a closed fist as he balanced the crystal on a gloved fingertip. "So that's it. Precious Sarah, you silly thing…"

It seemed he had a bit of planning to do.

* * *

As I went to unlock my door, I noticed an envelope wedged into the doorjamb. I narrowed my eyes, suspiciously prying it loose and examining it. My name was written on the front in neat, precise lettering, the handwriting as unfriendly and brisk as Jareth's was loopy and ostentatious. I slid my thumb under the sealed corner and tore it open, extracting and unfolding it's contents, and briefly scanned it, my stomach feeling more and more like I had swallowed an ice anvil the further I read.

It was an eviction notice.

Well, more precisely, it was a court summons, where I would have a chance to defend myself against being evicted, but I was fairly certain I knew how _that_ would go. The court date was set in a week.

Snarling, I wadded up the paper. I couldn't believe that _jerk_ Bruin was actually trying to get me evicted! Who the hell did he think he was? Did he _really_ think I would just roll over and accept being bullied out of my home?

"You've got another thing coming, pal!" I shouted at the floor, and stomped my foot a couple times for good measure. "Bring it on! You have _no idea_ what you're dealing with! I'm not afraid of you, you overgrown, testosterone-saturated teddy bear!"

I ripped open the door to my apartment and stormed inside, fuming. That rotten son of a…

"Lady Sarah!"

"Hail her Tallness!"

"HAIL, HAIL, HAIL!"

The goblins had, once again, destroyed my living room. Honestly, did they ever do anything that _wasn't _destructive? The damn things were like a living tornado of dust and clutter, obliterating order at every turn and -

Inspiration suddenly clocked me over the head, an I grinned.

I had an idea. An awful idea. I had a wonderful,_ awful_ idea.

* * *

Edgar Bruin hummed happily to himself as he shifted his bags to unlock his apartment door. Today was a lovely day, bight and sunny, and the warm weather had inspired his inner painter so much that he had designed an entire series of bonnet-wearing kittens for his paint-by-numbers seminar.

And that damn noisy neighbor of his wouldn't be a nuisance much longer. In just a few short weeks, her chaotic butt and those horribly undisciplined children she watched would be kicked to the curb, never to bother him again, and he would be able to concentrate on his sand paintings and bonneted kittens without distraction. Perhaps he could even start on those Sinatra clocks he'd been thinking about for -

Edgar dropped his purchases, staring around his apartment in abject horror. Porcelain carnage was strewn across his floor, glass eyes staring up at him in macabre innocence from shattered feline faces, sand was absolutely _everywhere_, and his Elvis clocks - Oh, his _Elvis clocks -_

Rage clouded his vision, the need for revenge taking hold as he spun around, intending to go up and give that damn Williams woman a _very_ stern talking-to -

_Ding-dong._

"Remember, kid, straight face," I whispered to Toby, tugging his orange neck scarf straight. He rolled his eyes.

"Sarah, I've been successfully lying to Mom for almost a decade. I've got this," he assured me. I smiled, straightening as the Evil Bear-Man Who Didn't Know When To Keep His Nose Out Of Other People's Leases opened the door.

"Hi! I'm Toby! My boy scout troop is selling these yummy candy bars to raise money for our annual camping trip, where we learn invaluable skills about life and self-dependency. Would you like to contribute to the cause?" my little brother pitched, sounding as sincere as only an eleven-year-old selling candy can manage, obviously not intimidated by the furious man before us in the least. I resisted the urge to hug him.

I said nothing, standing a little to the side and looking purposefully uninterested, as though I hadn't just sent goblins to ransack his house and wreak general chaos on his mechanical devices.

"_**You**_," he snarled, ignoring my brother and pointing a hot-dog sized finger accusingly at me. He was distinctly red in the face, practically shaking with the repressed urge to wring my neck. "**I **_**know**_** it was you, and you can be absolutely **_**sure**_** this will not go unpunished. I **_**will**_** be alerting the authorities**," he boomed threateningly. I looked at him in surprise.

"What?" I asked blankly.

The floor practically rumbled as he growled. "**Don't play the fool with me, girl. Who else would have cause to do something so horrible?**"

I blinked. "What are you talking about, Mr. Bruin?" I asked, a little miffed.

"**My **_**home!**_** All of my figurines and collectables, **_**all of them**_**, smashed to pieces, **_**ruined!**_" he cried. I rolled my eyes in the manner of someone who had just been told that their arch-nemesis had a hangnail.

"Look, I'm sorry 'bout your stuff, but why would you think _I _did it? It's not like I have a key to your apartment, and believe me, if I did, I'd be more tempted to toss it in the river than to come mess up your house. I don't come anywhere near you unless absolutely necessary. I'm only here now because my brother insisted on ringing every single person's doorbell. I've been doing this all afternoon, so even if I had the ability and inclination, I wouldn't have had the time. You can ask anyone from this floor up if you don't believe me," I said shortly.

He faltered, and suddenly turned, inspecting his doorknob, presumably for scratches indicating a previous, forced entry. I knew he wouldn't find any.

"Look, Mr. Bruin, I know you don't really like me, and to be honest, I don't really like you. But I don't have the means to break into your apartment, trash your stuff, and simultaneously escort a boy scout around, alright? You're probably looking for the same person who's been going around switching the numbers on the doors and ransacking cars. And it's a little rude to go around accusing people of vandalism without cause, just so you know," I said, and put my arm around Toby's shoulders. "Come on, kid, let's go. I doubt he'd really buy any candy from you."

Toby glared at the enormous, befuddled mountain, and stuck his tongue out before picking up his box of candy and stomping off to wait by the stairs, tapping his foot with annoyance.

"**Wait, Miss Williams**," the Evil Bear-Man said quietly, or as quietly as could be expected of anyone whose natural tone of voice was a roar, and I stopped, arching an impatient eyebrow at him. He grimaced. "**I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions**," he said, and he sounded like the concession caused him actual pain. I smiled.

"Don't worry about it. Oh, and you might want to get those clocks out of the bathtub before they're_ completely_ ruined," I suggested, and waited a moment for the implications of that statement to sink in.

He blinked at me, fury and confusion warring for control of his features.

"**But, you…**" he spluttered for a moment, before glaring at me. "**You** **realize I intend to take lawful action against you**," he said. I smirked.

"You have no evidence, I have an adorable kid for an alibi, and I even convinced _you_ that I was innocent. Good luck," I said, and walked off to join Toby. I held my hand out behind my back for a low-five as I passed him, which he obliged enthusiastically, and I heard him blow a raspberry at the Evil Bear-Man just before we closed the stairwell door. I ruffled his hair affectionately as we walked down to the parking lot.

"Excellent work, kid," I said, slinging an arm around his devious little shoulders.

"Told you I had it under control," he said cockily, but I could hear the pleased undertone in his pride.

"I will never again doubt your deceptive abilities," I said solemnly. He nodded in satisfaction.

"Ice cream?" he asked hopefully. I grinned. He was just like a goblin, sometimes.

"Sure."

* * *

After a pleasant afternoon of trying to smear ice cream on my baby brother's nose before he did the same to me, I dropped him off at Dad and Karen's and took as many winding side-road shortcuts as possible back to my place, happily singing along with the radio as the cool evening air whipped and tangled my hair and chilled my face and arms. I smiled contentedly as the sun sank behind the tree-line, staining the sky deep purple as the night crept in.

All in all, it had been a decidedly enjoyable Tuesday, despite the fact that I was in danger of getting kicked out of my apartment because of unruly goblins and their magical King.

Just the thought of Jareth, sitting next to me in the rumbling, speeding car, his platinum blonde mop whipping around and glowing in the sunlight, was enough to send tingles through my fingers and toes and bring butterflies to life in my stomach. I could suddenly feel the heat of his leather-clad hand on my thigh, and I clenched my legs together, shaking my head and forcing myself to focus on the road. This was ridiculous.

"Get a grip, Sarah. The two of you have done nothing worthy of stupid look on your face," I firmly told the green-eyed girl in the rearview mirror. She gave me an irritated look that said quite plainly '_Right, like his hand all over your thighs isn't a drool-worthy thought._'

Honestly, I was being unbearably silly. It wasn't as though I was some blushing virginal schoolgirl, anymore, for Hoggle's sake - I'd been around the block a time or two, and considered myself well-versed in the art of wild monkey sex. I was cool under pressure. I could be coy and sexy. I was the Don Juan of upstate New York.

Well, alright, that may have been a bit of an exaggeration, but the point was, Sarah Williams was _not_ one to get hot and bothered over a kiss that _hadn't even happened yet_. And I _certainly_ didn't like the fact that it was _Jareth_ making me like this.

I growled and cranked up the radio, singing along forcefully and determinedly not thinking about the sharp smell of magic that radiated from the passenger seat.

As I passed under a streetlight, I thought I caught a glimmer of shiny blonde hair from the empty space next to me, and whipped my head around - was Jareth in the car now? - and felt my jaw drop in horror.

On the seat next to me, reflected in the waning sunlight and sodium streetlight glow, was a perfect imprint of the Goblin King.

In glitter.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," I said for the third time in as many minutes, holding the passenger-side floor mat of Jeff's car in one hand and a spatula in the other.

"King is very sparkly," Ziggy said in a non-committal manner. I waved the spatula in hopeless exasperation.

"I mean, I enjoy a bit of well-placed shininess as well as the next girl, but there has got to be a limit," I said, beating the mat half-heartedly and watching the virtual fog of glitter that erupted from the contact.

"A little sparkly goes a long way," Ziggy nodded wisely,

"Yeah. Moderation in all things glittery, and all that," I agreed. "Is everything around him this like this?"

"Pretty much," Ziggy said, firing up his little hand-held vacuum and attacking the floorboard.

I sighed. "I wonder if there's some sort of anti-glitter shield I could have Jareth put up," I wondered, resuming my battle with the mat.

"Want Ziggy to ask him?"

I snorted. _That_ would be an interesting conversation.

"No, that's alright," I said, unwilling to risk my cleaning partner to one of Jareth's tempers. "But there will definitely be some changes when I'm -"

I stopped, horrified, and clapped a hand over my mouth, accidentally whacking myself in the face with the stupid spatula. I had nearly said…

"If you wanted a slap, Lady Sarah, you could just ask Ziggy," the little cross-eyed goblin told me, but I was far too horror-struck to register his words.

"Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. I haven't even _kissed_ him yet," I hissed at myself, and buried my face in my hands. "You will _stop_ this juvenile infatuation business _this instant_," I told myself firmly. Next thing I knew, I would be drawing hearts with _GK_ in the middle, and carving _Sarah & Jareth_ into nearby trees.

"Kiss who?" Ziggy asked, pausing in mid-vacuum. I shook my head, returning to beating the glitter out of Jeff's mat with renewed vigor.

"Someone who I should _definitely_ not be thinking about kissing," I told the cross-eyed little goblin.

"Oh. 'Cause King would get mad, if you go kissing someone. Might even bog you," he warned, and paused a moment, tilting his head a little. "Well, not bog Lady Sarah. But definitely the other kisser," he clarified. I felt a warm little buzzing in my stomach, that Jareth would be jealous of me kissing someone other than him. Obviously jealous, at that, if even his goblins had picked up on it. I smacked the mat a few more times, noticing the resulting amount of shiny residue was diminishing.

Exactly how jealous would Jareth be? And for what reason, specifically? Because I had chosen someone over him, and it hurt his pride? Because he was a sappy romantic and it pained his heart (or whatever the equivalent was for wicked kings) to see me express such affection for another? Or because he felt he had a claim to me? And which reason did I want?

I groaned, putting down the mat. I needed a drink.

"C'mon, Ziggy, we'll finish this tomorrow. Let's go get some cocoa," I said, and my little cleaning buddy whooped, abandoning his near-hopeless task in favor of chocolaty goodness.

* * *

"Jeff, tomorrow night is Valentines, and you wait to make reservations until _now?_" The hostess said sharply.

"I know it's short notice for a holiday, but you would be doing me a _huge_ favor, Denise," Jeff said, turning his Baby Blues on the red-headed hostess. "I would be _eternally_ grateful."

The woman gave him a wry smile, twirling a pen nimbly through her fingers. "Begging, now, are we? Must have a really hot date," she said, perhaps just the mildest trace of bitter jealousy in her tone. The two had agreed to stop seeing each other on good terms, but he knew she would still have given them another go. Jeff had rarely been irrevocably dumped.

"Please, Denise. I promise you, I will send you the biggest thank-you gift basket of chocolate you have ever seen in your life," he bargained. He didn't really need to beg, but it would make her feel less like a hopeless sap still holding out for a guy who had moved on, and more like a woman who occasionally made mutually beneficial deals with her ex, and he didn't mind coddling her ego.

She rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being pathetic. This must be some girl," she said, and scribbled his name in for a balcony table. "There. Now quit groveling and grow a pair," she teased fondly, and leaned an elbow on the counter, resting her sharp chin on her palm as she faced Jeff. "And I fully expect that gift-basket."

Jeff grinned widely and kissed the end of her nose. "You're an angel, Denise," he said, and handed her a blank check, made out to a fruit and chocolate boutique several doors down. "Get whatever your heart desires," he said and winked, turning and walking toward the door.

"You know damn well what my heart desires, and it isn't on sale in any store," Denise muttered as he left, and Jeff couldn't help but smirk a little. He kept walking and let Denise believe he hadn't heard her.

Everything was ready. Tomorrow night was going to be _perfect_.

Sarah didn't stand a chance.

* * *

**AN: **GAME TIME!1! Aright, ducklings, who can be the first to not only spot, but identify the origins of the Dr. Seuss reference up there? Do me proud, fellow Seuss-head pals! GO!

And - Jareth meets someone in the next chapter. ONE GUESS WHO. ( :D )

**Freak-4-God** - I know! DX I'm so sorry, darling! Forgive me?

**Lov2catnap** - Lol, I am so ebil, aren't I? Hope you're doing well, luv! (I do not envy you with a new little monster running loose in the house. Yeesh.)

**Nanenna** - Lol I would feel bad about torturing him, if I hadn't actually made him specifically to be tortured. Alas, such is his fate…. (And I fully agree. Jareth absolutely DEMANDS UST. Though it usually ends up getting energetically resolved, so ust isn't precisely accurate…)

**MyraValhallah** - Thanks, darling! (And what on earth is Sod's law?)

**Dark Dreamer** - . Did I say a week? Hah. Haha. Ahm. Meant a month, sorry for the mixup. (Oooh! I'm sorry for that, dear! Is he in the forces or something?)

**Sapphire Vial** - Lol! He isn't a sketch, he's just a really nice guy. And a tiny bit full of himself. And also a tiny bit desperate. Alright, fine, he's a little sketchy.

**Cybernetic Mango** - Well, as back as I can really be expected to be, I suppose, lol. Yay! Hope your arm is doing well! (I didn't know you painted. What of?)

**Clara954 -** :) Thank you, darling! Unfortunately, 'soon' is sort of a relative term when it comes to me.

**Darkbangle** - Aw! I love hearing things like that. :) Hope Jareth's reaction was satisfactory - and Sarah's two beaus will meet very soon. :D

**Tsohg** - Lol! I can understand the cocoa, but I don't think I have the emotional fortitude for fuzzy pickles.

**Camcalli** - Haha! He'll probably need therapy for the rest of his life.

**iCraft **- Thank you, darling! :) I love my goblins too - I almost wish they'd come ransack my house every now and again.

**Coffee Kris** - Lol! Isn't it against the rules to be frolicking in shadows?

**MayFeiScarlette** - Quite the opposite, darling - it was just the kick in the pants I needed. ;)

**Insanityfairy** - :D

**Rowaan -** Haha! Of course not! Then he'd show up smelling like Bog and gibbering incoherently. Sarah would kill me. ( ;) )

**Sallafe K** - Hahah! Oh, I laughed so hard when I read that! Thank you, darling!

**OrangeSea** - :) Hope you enjoyed!

**Saoirse09** - . Sorry it took so long! And really? You don't like Jeff? What on earth's not to like? (Well, aside from the fact that he isn't Jareth. …Oh. Right.)

**GlamGirl255** - Lol thank you, darling! Hope the JS quota was filled in this one. :)

**GeeAnnaB** - I know! . I am horrid about deadlines. I'm one of those people you tell to be somewhere half and hour early so maybe they'll be on time.

**Bright Lotus** - Haha Yes, the indestructibility helps.

**Creative-Insanity** - *Hugs* You are fabulous.

**Starsong** - :) Hope it lived up!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Alright, so everyone knows I don't own Labyrinth. But I really _really_ want to. So, you know, if anyone was wondering what to get me for my birthday...

**And Also: **Thanks be to my new beta, **CorkyConlon**, for being so absolutely fabulous. A round of applause for her, darlings?

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

My brain had melted.

After several minutes of inexplicable agony when I awoke, during which every slightest noise caused a sonic boom in my skull and the tiniest ray of light fried my retinas, I realized that the only reasonable cause for this was that my grey matter had spontaneously liquefied.

Domino sat beside the bed with his chin resting by my face and chuffed impatiently.

"Shuuush, puppy," I mumbled. He looked at me with mild disdain.

_This is your own doing. You have none of my doggie sympathy._

"Oh, don't be so callous. I rub your tummy when you've gorged yourself on Mexican, don't I?" I chided.

He twitched an ear. _That is entirely different._

I sighed, hauling myself upright and waiting for the world to stop throwing a temper tantrum and settle back down. Then I stood up and repeated the process.

All in all, it only took me about seven minutes to get my shoes and make it to the bedroom door.

"You know, Mr. Puppy, I think it's possible I had a tad too much to drink last night," I admitted, looking around my obliterated living room as my incapacitating hangover took a club to my mushy brain.

Goblin chaos had again been wreaked upon my home.

Bits of paper and other debris littered the area, my powdered laundry detergent had somehow made it into the festivities and strewn itself from one end of the living room to the other, and a number of stretched socks were scattered about like cotton cocoons shed by Gobliny butterflies.

I cocked my head, considering the scene before me.

To be honest, my house actually sort of looked better this way.

During the Week of No Goblins, it had been clean and orderly, and utterly lacking in character. Strewn as it was with debris, it sort of had a homey feeling.

I made a bee-line for the kitchen and grabbed the Tylenol. I was obviously delusional with pain and needed to cure this sort of thinking immediately. Next thing I knew, I'd have chickens running around willy-nilly and be strategically positioning an oversized armchair in the center of the room.

Returning to the living room, I half-heartedly shoved some of the mess into semi-organized piles, and realized my 'fan' had made its way back into the fray. I vaguely remembered attempting to sacrifice it to the Gods of Rum last night, though exactly what either the deities or I were supposed to be getting out of it were a bit fuzzy. I vividly remembered stubbing my toe on a dislocated fan blade, though.

I glared at my old nemesis for a moment.

"You know what? You're _not_ going to win. I'm going to put you together, and you are going to spin and work properly, because I will not be beaten by a pile of stubborn plastic. Understood?" I told the blasted thing firmly. It did not deign to answer me, but I suspect it got my meaning.

Domino whined by the door, looking longingly towards his leash, and I sighed, shuffling over to him and hooking the lead to his collar.

"Alright, alright. But please, _please_ be gentle with me. My brain is fragile right now, and I can't afford another unannounced melting, okay?" I pleaded. Domino chuffed in agreement, and then unceremoniously dragged me outside just the same.

And it was hailing. _Hailing_. And not the friendly, leave-tiny-welts-on-any-exposed-skin sort of hail, but the chunks-the-size-of-golf-balls, could-induce-permanent-brain-damage sort of hail. I growled.

Goblin Fallout, Part Four.

Domino made quick work of a few sheltered begonias, and promptly hauled me back upstairs, shaking his coat every couple of steps and liberally spraying everything in a five-foot radius of him with bits of ice.

Firmly commanding Domino to _stay_ as soon as we entered the apartment, I fetched a couple of towels and proceeded to dry the two of us off. Once my puppy was satisfactorily de-iced, I gave him a large, yummy-centered bone to keep him occupied for the next decade or so and went to the laundry alcove nestled between the kitchen and living room to continue my efforts.

"You know, this is getting a bit absurd. Honestly, I'm about to permanently declare a goblin ban on my apartment," I groused insincerely as I pulled bits of melting ice from my hair.

"I hope that won't apply to their king," Jareth said from behind me, and I started slightly, wincing as the sudden movement jarred a couple of ill-secured brain cells loose.

Turning, I cast a glower at the bright-faced, clear-eyed blonde in my living room, who's brain had obviously _not_ melted in the recent past and therefore could not sympathize with my plight, and promptly stalked into the kitchen to make coffee.

"Ah. Not a morning person, then," Jareth said, following me.

"It depends. Today, no," I said shortly, counting out scoops into the filter and hoping that the 3:1 coffee-to-glitter ratio wasn't harmful to ingest.

"Well, perhaps you should return to bed for a little while," he said, and I felt him slink up behind me, his soft poet shirt brushing my arms and his breath fluttering my hair as he spoke next to my ear. "If you like, I'll keep you company," he purred.

I shivered. Did he _really_ have to make that sound so tempting?

Jareth chuckled at my reaction, and I felt my eyes narrow in chagrin.

Was he seriously _laughing _at me?

"Well, I'm already up now. Might as well stay that way. Did you want coffee?" I asked, pretending not to care that he was so close to me I could almost squeeze into his breeches.

I could hear the smirk in Jareth's voice as he answered. "Thank you, precious thing. That would be lovely." I nodded.

"Good. That way if the glitter you left in it is poisonous, you'll die with me," I reasoned. Jareth laughed.

"How cruel, Sarah! Spiteful little creature, aren't we?" he said with amusement, and leaned sexily against my counter. I firmly stomped on my libido, corralling it back into its pen - honestly, I knew it was getting out of hand when I was turned on by _leaning_.

"It's hailing outside. The goblins caused yet _another_ fallout, and I'm getting a bit tired of them," I explained, purposely not mentioning that my foul mood was also influenced by the consequences of drinking myself into oblivion last night.

Jareth pursed his lips and studied me for a moment. I tried to pretend that I hadn't been obliterating all thoughts of _him_ with alcohol, with limited success.

"Have you considered that perhaps _you_ are the cause of the 'magical fallouts'?" he asked finally. I scoffed.

"I may have, if I could actually _do_ magic," I replied.

"Have you ever tried?" he countered. I blinked.

"Well. No. But only because it would be pointless, since I'm _human_ and humans _can't do magic_." I said defensively. A small smirk lurked in the corner of his mouth.

"Says who?"

I blinked again, and spluttered in an incoherently incredulous manner for a few moments before realizing I sounded like an idiot and crossed my arms, clamping my mouth closed for a moment.

"Alright, so, fine," I said, once I was sure the idiotic babbling would not resume if I unbuttoned my lips. "Let's say - just hypothetically - humans have the capacity for magic. Why didn't it work back when I was a kid and actually _believed_ I could? Why all of a sudden now?" I demanded.

He chewed on his words for a moment, as though weighing the possible costs of releasing them. "It's possible my presence is drawing it to the forefront," he said carefully. I narrowed my eyes.

"Why would you make a difference? I've been hanging out with goblins for the past ten years, and they're stuffed with magic."

Something that very nearly resembled a wince flashed across Jareth's face.

"It may be that your magic is responding to me because… it was originally _my _magic."

A pleasant little flutter originated from somewhere in the vicinity of my heart - though that's not what it was, because I was not a sickeningly love-struck teenager - at the thought that Jareth had given me some of his magic, before I stomped it back down. As it was obviously impossible, there was no reason to be fluttery about it. And it _was_ impossible, because if I _could_ do magic, I would right now be in Tahiti basking on a beach, twirling crystals around my delightfully sun kissed fingers, and _not_ in my dreary little apartment in New York, trying to wrestle a plastic abomination into something resembling a fan while brewing glitter-infested coffee.

I started to present my logic to Jareth, but paused as I realized the situation: Jareth, Master of Mockery and King of the Sneer, had just presented me with an opportunity to mock _him._

I nearly laughed. The warm little flutter flapped back to life, doing some sort of highly energetic jig in my chest. I slipped a murderous mask over my giddiness and tried to look as though tearing off a limb or three were not out of the question.

"So it's _your_ fault!" I said, and was quite pleased there was absolutely no trace of the happy flutter in my voice. Jareth cringed, as though this was exactly the reaction he was expecting, and I covered a triumphant grin with another furious scowl.

I pretended to ponder over the implications of this for a moment, letting him sweat as I glowered and occasionally made outraged noises, at which he winced and looked vaguely worried for the well-being of his extremities.

I supposed, hypothetically, that if I _did_ believe I suddenly possessed magical powers, learning its previous owner was Jareth would have explained its temperamental side-effects; such as lack of order and mechanical mayhem, and sudden, violent mood swings in the weather. And come to think of it, I had been rather uncharacteristically concerned with my wardrobe lately.

A rather terrifying thought suddenly slapped me upside the brain, and I widened my eyes, looking Jareth over as though he had suddenly sprouted a second head that was quoting Nietzsche. He looked mildly offended.

"I'm not slowly turning into you, am I?" I asked, slightly horrified. I quickly turned to the microwave, using its glass door as a mirror to check my eye color.

"Both still green," I muttered for his benefit, and saw him roll his eyes in the reflection.

My hair, however, looked a tad fluffier than usual. "Did I brush my hair today?" I wondered aloud, furrowing my eyebrows with worry. I patted at it, though only a few times, as it sent extremely unpleasant tremors through my gelatinous brain, before turning to throw a pained glance at Jareth's unruly mop while purposely ignoring the rest of him, as though he were just a floating, disembodied hairstyle.

"I'm going to wind up with knee-high leather boots, painfully tight pants, and ridiculous, ostentatious hair," I predicted in a hopeless tone.

"Sarah, don't be absurd," Jareth chastised. I ignored him, trying to smooth my hair back to its usual bouncelessness . I sighed wistfully.

"Goodbye, my normal, shiny, pin-straight locks…" I lamented.

"_Sarah_," Jareth hissed angrily. I turned to look at him, and tried very hard not to giggle, grin, or any other telling action that would display just how proud I was of myself for pulling this off. Jareth's hair was fluffing slightly, as though being lifted by the furious heat-waves pulsing off of him, and his hands were balled into tight fists, being held rigidly by his sides. I frowned at him.

"Oh, great. My temper is going to go to pot, too, isn't it? Slightest little insult, and I'm going to start hurling death machines at people and trapping them in oubliettes," I sighed. He rolled his eyes and growled in frustration.

"_Really,_ Sarah, while it may not have been the _best_ idea, you were being _unbearably_ rude, and-" he started, but finally noticed the little self-satisfied gleam in my eyes, and stopped. The tightly contained rage drained from his limbs, and he seemed to deflate slightly. "You…" he said softly, the realization falling into place with an almost audible _click_, and then narrowed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest.

"Oh, very mature," he said flatly. I grinned.

"Sorry, but you just rile so energetically. It's extremely entertaining," I quipped, imitating his accent. He gave me a dull stare, clearly not amused. I shifted a little, perhaps slightly uncomfortable, as my stomach contemplated mutiny. I surreptitiously pressed a hand to my tummy as I deliberately looked anywhere but at Jareth, but after several agonizingly long awkward moments, I caved.

"Well, it's your own fault for trying to make me believe you had shoved your magic down my throat when I wasn't looking," I said defensively. He blinked, and then his favorite haughty mask slid into place.

He scoffed. "And I had thought you'd finally obtained some measure of _intelligence," _he said in that unbearably arrogant manner of his. I felt my own ire rising.

"Well, pardon me for not realizing sooner that the impossible had happened," I spat irritably. "You'd think I would have noticed something like that."

"It's hardly impossible, either in practice or belief. You believed that silly line in the book, about the Goblin King falling in love with the poor princess, did you not?" He countered sharply, his tone just a tad demeaning. I rolled my eyes and ignored the pounding of hot blood in my head.

"And I _realized_ it was silly. You didn't really fall for a fifteen-year-old brat and give me 'certain powers'. And anyways, even though I might not immediately declare it the best gift ever, I'm usually at least _aware_ of things given to me. Especially if they've been shoved down my throat."

"I never said I gave it _willingly,_ Princess," he said tightly.

"So I somehow _forced_ you to give me your magic?" I retorted, folding my arms. Jareth abruptly threw up his hands, his hair fluffing again in a decidedly angry manner.

"You _won_, you callous twit! I didn't _give_ you anything! You _took_ it," he shouted. I narrowly kept the wince off my face at the assault on my oversensitive eardrums, and promptly gave as good as I got.

"_I_ didn't take _anything_ from _you!_" I shouted back. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, and his voice lowered in volume, if not in hostility.

"Your ignorance does not change the result," he said, obviously clamping a tenuous hold on his irritation. I rolled my eyes.

"You're seriously telling me I _unconsciously_ took magic, _that I did not want to begin with_, from you?" I reliped scathingly.

"Do you see me rubbing your nose in your epic failure with that bloody plastic contraption of yours in the other room?" he snapped, and I blinked.

He was serious.

This sort of changed things.

I looked down at my fingers, wiggling them experimentally. No sparks or glittery puffs erupted from them, but I decided it was probably inconclusive evidence at best. Just for arguments sake, I decided to consider the possibility, and noticed that several things actually made sense, inasmuch as something like this _could_. For instance, things tended to mess up more when the goblins had been pestering me for several days in a row, and I was irritated or stressed. And when I was obsessing over that television piece, it came on every freaking five minutes. Then it was suspiciously warm yesterday, after I had been begging for good weather to take Jareth for a ride in the Challenger…

Holy crap. I kind of believed him.

"It wasn't something I did on purpose," I said in an apologetic manner, a little less testy. Jareth gave me one of his patented Eyebrow Looks.

"Wonderful. Part of my personal, inherent power was _accidentally_ taken by a fifteen-year-old brat. How comforting."

I scowled. "Look, I didn't _want_ your damn power, and I didn't _mean_ to do it," I snarled.

"Oh, you didn't?" he quipped lightly, smirking. I huffed in annoyed exasperation.

"Apologies are better late than never, you know."

"I've heard nothing even _vaguely_ resembling an apology, as of yet."

I gaped at him. "You used _my own actions_ as a defense when _you_ apologized!" I said incredulously.

"Because it wasn't entirely my fault. This is different."

"I didn't even _know_! Cut me some slack, here!"

Jareth _tsked_. "Going to complain about the unfairness of it all, precious?"

I glared as hard as I possibly could at the unbearably irritating man in front of me, and decided imaginary daggers just weren't good enough.

So, I turned and hefted my butcher knife. The weight of cold steel in my hand was particularly enjoyable.

Turning with what I'm sure was a murderous gleam in my eyes, I found myself met with an unfortunately king-less kitchen.

Surprise, surprise.

* * *

Why that _infuriating_, unbelievably _boorish_ woman, how _dare_ she!

"**_I_**_ didn't take _**_anything_**_ from _**_you_**_,_" Jareth quoted irritably, his voice high and mocking. "Honestly, where does she get the nerve?" he demanded of a nearby chicken. It clucked noncommittally and scratched at the floor, a few feathers drifting from its tail.

"Didn't want my power, indeed. She was bloody well _begging_ for it," he informed his feathered companion, tossing his head indignantly. "Just because she was too inattentive to notice that she had it damn well does _not_ mean that she didn't fairly _rip_ it from me with her blasted little monologue," Jareth grumbled, and conjured a couple of crystals for the sole purpose of tossing them carelessly at a wall and watching them shatter. "And when I go to ease her mind, tell her that she'll be in no way inferior to the bejeweled, power-mongering harpies at court, she tries to _stab_ me! You think she would be _delighted_ to hear that she has her own significant amount of power, but no! Instead of _any_ sort of gratitude, I get blatantly insulted and nearly attacked. Do you know she called my hair ridiculous and ostentatious? I've bogged persons for lesser offenses," he ranted, whipping his riding crop around to emphasize his dissatisfaction with the situation.

Of course, Jareth had anticipated Sarah's less-than-ideal reaction, due to the fact that magic seemed to have given her a fair amount of difficulty over the past few years, but he certainly did _not_ expect her outright disbelief. He'd expected better from her, after all that she had witnessed and experienced firsthand.

And mocking him had been wholly unnecessary.

She was lucky he didn't drop her in an oubliette.

Wallowing petulantly, Jareth toyed with a strand of his dramatic, ice-blonde hair. It wasn't ridiculous. Was it?

He was briefly entertaining the idea of trying out other hairstyles (simply for a change, not because it had anything to do with Sarah's opinion), when there was an almighty racket from the courtyard below his throne room window, and he rose from his throne to determine the cause.

As he looked out over his Labyrinth, Jareth's blood ran cold, and heavy horror settled in his stomach.

"Oh, _Sarah_, you fiend…" he murmured, torn between dismay and admiration, and promptly sealed himself in his chambers.

How _cruel_ his queen could be.

* * *

It took about five minutes of ranting for inspiration to strike.

Why I didn't think of it instantly, I don't know, as I had _just_ employed it the previous afternoon, but I decided to blame my extreme irritation for the lapse in scheming.

Jareth, in all his maddening arrogance, was currently under siege.

It took a little bit of persuasion (by which I mean bribing, but really, what's a few bags of marshmallows and twenty cups of cocoa, when it's for the cause?), but I managed to convince the goblins that Jareth was playing a game with me, and the goal of the game was to take over the other person's home.

And then I sent the goblins Underground, armed with silly string, balls of yarn, and miles of streamers.

Jareth didn't have a snowball's chance in Tahiti.

I hummed happily to myself as I strolled to my kitchen, fishing a pen out of the junk drawer to label today as Day One of the Goblin Coup on the calendar.

I held the cap between my teeth, running my finger along the days until I came to the present - _Wednesday, February fourteenth-_

I stopped.

Today was Wednesday. I had a dinner date with Jeff.

It was also _Valentine's Day_.

I gaped at my calendar. "Why that no-good, rotten, scheming _troll!" _I snarled around the plastic top, and was quite proud that none of the violent malice was lost due to slurring.

I couldn't believe that man! Did he _really_ think I wouldn't notice that he had conned me into a date on one of the most romantic nights of the year, even though I had done everything in my power to make it blatantly obvious I wasn't interested?

I purposely ignored the fact that it had nearly worked as I stomped off to my bedroom, intending to locate his number and give that dirty, low-hitting _sneak_ a piece of my mind -

And abruptly halted.

This was, actually, quite fortunate. With a bit of proper timing, this could be even more satisfying than mocking His Nibs' wardrobe and hairstyle choices.

Grinning, I continued toward my bedroom with a much lighter step.

* * *

Ziggy sort of suspected that Lady Sarah wasn't being entirely truthful with him about the Game with King, but her fib resulted in Lots of Fun, so he was inclined to go along with it. Besides, she had certainly improved since the Yummy Goodies Are Actually Poison fib, and it was very important to encourage her. If she kept at it, Lady Sarah may even be able to lie to _him_ convincingly one day. Or even King, which was a feat not even the goblins had mastered yet.

Ziggy hoped Lady Sarah got the hang of fibbing to King soon, because this Game was going to make him Really Crabby.

After coating the outside walls of the Castle with a layer or two of the Sticky Rope-Spray, Ziggy led the other goblins on a brief march inside, where they proceeded to twine the yarn around every hangy thing on the walls that they came across and drape streamers over anything that would hold it.

Including chickens.

Out of pity, they targeted the bald chickens fist, so that they would be pretty and not naked anymore, but they turned out to be such good sport that the other, still feathered, chickens wound up being covered too.

Next should have been the Chair Room, but the recent threats of facial disfigurement regarding King's Chair Room, and the sudden rise in naked, smelly chickens, discouraged the goblins, and they moved onto less dangerous areas.

Like King's Sleepy Room.

* * *

I glanced at the clock, pursing my lips as I applied my lipstick.

Jareth was holding out better than I thought he would.

I had expected him to cave and come beg me for mercy hours ago. I felt a brief flash of worry for the goblins. He hadn't bogged them all, had he?

Shaking my head, I returned my focus to the beautification of my face. The goblins would be fine. I had told them all to abandon their mission and claim duress should they be conquered, and not one of them had come streaking through my living room smelling of Bog, as was customary when one of them had been caught doing something.

They were fine.

But what was taking so long?

Huffing, I gave up on my makeup after a few minutes, deciding this was as good as I got, and instead went to finish getting dressed while I waited. Jareth _would_ be here, any minute…

A few minutes later, I caught myself standing in front of my closet, head cocked, listening for the sound of his sparkly arrival, absolutely no progress having been made on the dressing front.

"Focus, Sarah!" I berated myself, slipping into the slinky black dress I'd chosen. "Just follow the plan!" If I wasn't careful, he was going to pop in here with me half-naked, and if I could barely control myself around him while fully dressed, I shuddered to think what I would do if he confronted me with so little in the way of that hot, tingle-inducing gaze of his.

My leg warmed traitorously at the memory of his hand upon it, and my neck ached to have his warm breath brushing across it, his sharp teeth grazing -

"_Sarah!_" snarled a furious voice from the living room, and I grinned.

Finally.

* * *

He'd _had it._

He could tolerate her claiming the right to give orders to his subjects, even allow said orders to jeopardize the cleanliness of his newly-restored castle, but he could not, could _not_, tolerate the violation of his private chambers.

Was _nothing_ sacred?

Enraged, he whirled on the woman responsible as she entered from her own, goblin-free chambers, and opened his mouth to let fly a dozen or so sharp remarks about propriety and acts of war -

And found them all clotted in his throat, while his jaw worked soundlessly.

Sarah, while stunning even when clothed in naught but baggy, ill-fitting shirts and shapeless sweatpants, was absolutely devastating when properly clothed. A smooth little black number hung over her figure, snug over her hips and short on her long legs, leaving plenty of delectable skin to be appreciated. Her hair was twisted up, leaving her lovely neck bare, while a few stray tendrils hung down to frame her dark-lidded eyes and distractingly red lips.

And she was smirking at him.

"Oh, Jareth! Glad you're here. Do me a favor, would you, and zip me up?" she asked nonchalantly, sauntering over to him and presenting the back of her dress, which hung enticingly open to her waist and revealed some sort of appealing lacy contraption at her bodice and something equally interesting just below the zipper. Jareth narrowed his eyes.

She was _teasing_ him.

Unfortunately, it was effective.

Her perfume was something light and vaguely sweet, reminding him of pale pink and sunshine, and the compulsion to sweep along her neck, breathe deeply and commit the smell of her skin to memory was quite overwhelming. The contours of her bared back made his fingers twitch, begging to brush along the lines and make her shiver underneath them, while his teeth ached to graze the lace encircling her breasts and see how long it would take to make her moan, panting and grabbing at him-

Jareth bit the inside of his cheek sharply, forcing himself to less dangerous thoughts. He could quickly spiral out of control if he continued like this, and he couldn't afford to let her win. He firmly implanted a picture of his invaded castle, bedecked in all manner of unacceptability, in his mind to override her efforts at seduction, and focused only on her dress. She had to apologize before he could enact any of the scenes her teasing had created.

Though unfamiliar, the closure method proved simple, and Jareth easily did as she asked, being quite sure to gently run his fingers along her spine as he complied. He was rewarded with a small shiver, and a smirk of his own played over his lips.

"Thank you," she said, her voice just a tad lower than necessary, and Jareth felt that ever-present desire rising up again at her tone.

"Of course," he replied, noting that his own voice may have been just a bit rough. "You look lovely. Might I inquire as to the occasion?" He asked, already quite sure he knew the answer. After her little stunt with his goblins, he'd been planning to give her a taste of angered monarchy, but if she was willing to negotiate a cessation of hostilities, and over a formal dinner at that, who was he to-

"I have a date. Actually, he'll be over soon, so what's up?" she said briskly, flouncing away from him.

Jareth rocked back a little. It took a moment for her words to stop rebounding in his head long enough to for him to remember how to use his tongue.

"A date?" he asked quietly. He had enough presence of mind left to notice that the little minx looked far too pleased with herself to be allowed.

"Yep. His name's Jeff. He's actually quite nice, you might like him. Anyways, what did you want?"

Blinking, Jareth stood motionless as he processed her offhandedly devastating remarks. He'd known she was angry, but she obviously had been as drawn to him as he to her in the car - he'd bloody _felt_ her heart racing next to him as he'd traced his fingers over her thigh - how could she have someone else waiting for her the _next bloody day_ -

His internal ranting paused.

_Oh._

So, _that_ was how she wanted to play, then?

Very well. He could play. He'd shatter her feigned disinterest like fine crystal. Bloody minx. Toy with _him,_ would she.

"I _want,_" he paused, letting his eyes roam over her slinky little dress and the pleasing length of her exposed legs, allowing her to interpret precisely _how bad_ he wanted, "you to answer for your actions against my personal stronghold," he continued. Sarah stiffened, a faint blush creeping up into her cheeks as her breathing quickened, and he slid forward, a small grin pulling his lips.

* * *

It was impossible. It was simply _impossible_ for someone to exude that much raw sexuality while doing nothing but _walking_.

Jareth was stalking toward me - there wasn't nearly enough distance for him to cover, _why isn't my apartment bigger?_ - and looking at me in that manner of his that turned most of my load-bearing limbs into jell-o; that look with the feral, sharp-fanged grin and the hungry eyes I was sure would _glow_ with need if I turned out the lights - _Oh god no, don't think about Jareth in the dark-_

I realized as Jareth reached me that I could no longer feel my toes.

Jareth tilted his head, mismatched eyes wandering over my face, my mouth, my throat, as he brought his gloved fingers up to brush against the side of my neck.

I swallowed hard and opened my mouth to speak, but my mouth had suddenly forgotten what its purpose was, and seemed to be debating between latching onto his lips or gibbering incoherently. His mouth was unbearably distracting. _He wanted to kiss me. He'd be jealous if I kissed someone else. He wants me to kiss him._

"Sarah?" Jareth said quietly, smirking in a self-satisfied manner at my silence. I blinked, feeling a tiny bit of intelligence squirming back into my gooey brain, and narrowed my eyes.

He _knew_ what he was doing. And he was stroking his own ego by making me turn to hot-blooded mush.

Heat of a different variety slid through my veins, and I clicked a cold mask on my face.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean," I said evenly, putting a buffer of space between me and the heat radiating off his body. Jareth looked mildly amused at the sudden re-emergence of my spine, and took another step forward. I took one back, preserving the distance between us, and folding my arms across my chest.

Jareth _tsked_ at me and smiled tolerantly, like a mentor at his favorite pupil. "Sarah, you haven't the skill to deceive me. You insult us both by trying."

"But I'm not trying to deceive you, O Goblin King," I said mockingly. "I have been here, in my house, getting ready for a perfectly normal, goblin-free evening with a very nice, tame-haired man. _I _have made no actions against you, personal or otherwise," I stated. And it was true. _I_ had done nothing to Jareth. The _goblins_ had been the ones running amuck with silly string.

He gave me an arch look. "You mean to imply that it was _not_ you who sent a horde of armed goblins to lay siege to my castle?"

I rolled a shoulder, and felt a pleased little thrill as I saw his eyes lock onto the distracting things it did to my dress. I had felt his arousal like a tangible cloud before he'd zipped up my dress, and it was nice to know he hadn't shed it quite as completely as he pretended.

"Not as such," I replied, turning to enter my bathroom. "I might have given them some aboveground toys as royalties, and they may have gotten the idea to play 'Conquer the Kingdom' as a result of the games we play here, but I did not order them to attack you, personally," I said, doing a few last-minute touch-ups to my make-up. This was also technically true. I had not ordered them to attack _him_, I had ordered them to attack his _castle_. I saw Jareth's eyes narrow out of the corner of my eye, and I smirked inwardly. It was so easy to push his buttons.

"Regardless of your hairsplitting justifications, you are to blame for the current state of both my castle and my attackers," he said brusquely. A flash of worry crossed my face in the mirror, and I spun to him.

"What do you mean, '_current state of your attackers_'?" I said hastily. I hadn't really gotten the goblins in trouble, had I?

"Concerned for the welfare of your traitorous little minions, precious?" he said mockingly, leaning against the doorframe and pulling a bit of compressed foam from his shirtsleeve. "Half of them are now residing in the Bog of Eternal Stench for decidedly poor aim," he informed me dispassionately. I felt my stomach drop unpleasantly.

"Jareth, that's not right. It was my fault, and we both know it. Don't punish them for it," I said sternly. He arched an eyebrow at my sudden change of heart.

"Now, Princess, you know better. Those captured in battle are to be dealt with as seen fit by their captors. Surely you knew there would be consequences to your actions?"

I squirmed guiltily. "Well, yes, but I expected you to be _fair_ about it! You don't blame the peon for the King's faults!" I protested, and very narrowly avoided stomping my foot.

"Ah, yes, I forgot about your odd sense of _fairness_, precious," he smirked. I glared furiously at him, and growled in rage, fisting my hands at my side. Why did he always have to _mock_ me?

That look he'd given me in the Challenger, the one that said just how much he thought our lips should get to know each other, slid across his sharp, angled features, and I glared harder. How _dare_ he be turned on by me being pissed off?

He took a step forward, and I took one back further into the bathroom, refusing to let him gain any ground on the space between us. He grinned darkly, and did it again, challenge written on every line of his face. I matched his movements, raising my chin defiantly - and ran into the wall.

_Oh, _I thought dimly, flattening my hands against the solid barrier behind me. _That was dumb._

Jareth's grin took on a triumphant edge, and he leisurely closed the distance between us, reaching out a hand and skimming his leather-clad fingers up my arm. I snarled and jerked away from his tingly touch.

"You know, Sarah, you really are adorable when you growl like that," he said, and I bit down on another growl.

"Jareth, if you come one inch closer, I'm going to hurt you," I threatened. Jareth cocked an eyebrow.

"_Oh, _really?" he said patronizingly. I _very_ narrowly resisted the urge to spit in his face.

"_Yes,_ really. Now back up and clear out, before I make you regret it," I demanded, and moved a tiny bit away from the wall to prompt him. Jareth moved forward at the same instant, and I suddenly found myself against him, able to feel the soft fabric of his breeches against my legs, noticing that our chests touched and I liked the way his was firm and warm, as his arms slid around me and secured our positions.

"And what if I were to say I would regret leaving you far more than being the victim of your violent temper?" he asked smoothly, his leonine baritone seductively low.

"I would say you were underestimating me, again," I retorted, and nearly winced at the breathy, gooey quality to my voice. "You really should let me go now, if you value the well-being of your limbs."

Jareth chuckled, and I could feel it reverberating through my own chest, and I hoped he couldn't feel how much I enjoyed the sensation. I firmly resisted pressing myself closer.

He grinned at me and tightened his arms, negating the point of my resistance, and I had a hunch he could feel perfectly well how he affected me. Well, parts of me, anyways.

"Tell me, Sarah, what _exactly _do you want to do to me?" he drawled, a smug little light in his mismatched eyes, and I felt my cheeks heating in anger.

"Which head would you like me to start with? The one I'm going to cut off and toss in the blender, or the one I'm going to bite the nose off of?" I countered with a snarl. Jareth laughed again.

"Careful, precious thing, or that fire will burn us both to cinders," he smirked, and I bared my teeth, willing him to lean his nose just a _little_ closer-

* * *

Jareth and Sarah both went rigid at the sound of the doorbell, each blankly staring at the other, stumbling at the intrusion into their tense little world. Sarah regained her footing first, giving Jareth an impressively cool, arch look from her position imprisoned against his chest.

"My date is here, Jareth. Let me go," she said evenly. She didn't order or demand it; she simply told him to, and expected to be obeyed.

Jareth rebelled instantly.

His jaw set stiffly as he tightened his hold on her. _Let me go_. To someone else? To some drooling mortal idiot who would never be a fraction of what he could be to her? Never. He'd turn her into an owl right now, fly them both home, dump that imbecile into the Bog and make Sarah see reason before he'd let her go. _Never._ He would _never-_

He paused.

He would never win Sarah's heart that way.

His features slackened as he loosened his grip, every muscle in his body resenting the very thought of releasing her. He carefully blanked out his features, not allowing anything more than had already been revealed to be shown on his face, and refused to let Sarah see the effort it took to let her extract herself from his arms. She looked at him for a brief second, looking as though she were mildly pleased that it took such a struggle for him to do so, and carefully stepped past him without making further contact.

It literally _hurt_ to let her walk by him, knowing that she was going towards another man. His instincts were screeching their objections, clamoring for him to snatch her up and fly her back to his Labyrinth, deal with her on _his_ turf. His distress was making him feel flighty- his arms were beginning to feel a bit feathery. A quick glance in the mirror as he turned told him that he was indeed looking rather owl-ish; his hair was lighter than usual and floating oddly, his clothes had paled, and his boots had become slightly sharp in the toes. He took a deep breath to calm himself. It did nothing to help.

Jareth knew he should leave, come back and confront the interloper when he was more in control, but his every nerve resisted the thought. He could more easily leave his right arm behind.

Steeling his shoulders, he stalked imperiously into the main room.

* * *

I left Jareth in the bathroom, trying not to think about how his reluctance to let me go made me feel, and straightened my dress as I answered the door.

Jeff stood in the doorway, smiling in a charming manner, his hands behind his back. He was in a flattering blue button-down shirt precisely the same shade of cobalt as his eyes, left open enough to draw the eye, and well-cut black slacks, tailored to show precisely the right amount of definition without making him look flamboyant. His hair waved attractively around his defined features, accenting his high cheekbones and strong jaw. He looked like every normal girl's dream.

"You look _stunning_, Sarah," he said, and leaned forward to give me a kiss. I quickly employed the classic defensive-cheek-turn maneuver, and forced a smile.

"Not so bad yourself, Jeff. Though I admit I was hoping you'd be covered in grease," I said playfully, and stepped aside to allow him in. He brought an arm from behind his back as he came inside, presenting a dozen red roses.

"Oh, roses," I said, forcing another smile. _Great. More murdered flowers. So thoughtful._ Why did men think that killing things was remotely romantic?

Jeff grinned, oblivious to my discomfort. "I'd offer some spiel about searching the lands for a flower to match your beauty, but I'm sure some other poor sod has already sunk that ship," he said, and pulled his other arm around, revealing a heart-shaped box tied with a bow. "So I got you candy, instead."

"Chocolate!" I chirped, and smiled widely. Who cared if he was a little bit delusional, candy was candy. "Thanks, Jeff," I said, and happily took the calorie-laden gift. Jeff opened his mouth to reply, when something behind me caught his eye, and he abruptly froze. I knew what he'd seen, but I turned around with an inquisitive look on my face nonetheless, hiding my eagerness for both of their reactions.

* * *

There was a man in her bedroom.

Well, not _in _her bedroom, precisely, but extremely close to it; he was leaning casually against the doorframe, looking for all the world as though he belonged there, a few scant feet from Sarah's bed. He positively radiated a confident ease, like he was utterly untouchable by his surroundings, and everyone was simply there for his amusement.

His hair was in stylish disarray that few people can manage, but that seemed perfectly natural with his self-assured posture, and a white, loose-sleeved, mostly unbuttoned button-down shirt tucked into dark denim pants that were _far_ too form-fitting for propriety. He looked like a rock-star lounging between sets, knowing full well that he was adored and that was how it should be.

And he was so far out of Jeff's league, he nearly cried. This hunk of ice-cool self-confidence must be his competition for Sarah's affections. It was a little bit daunting.

"Oh, oops," Sarah said, drawing Jeff's attention back to her. She smiled in mild chagrin. "Forgot the introductions. Sorry." She gestured to the arrogant rock-star. "Jeff, this is Jareth. He's an old acquaintance," she said, and Jeff nearly cringed at the term 'acquaintance' - code for 'lover'. He knew perfectly well what the tag meant.

"Jareth, this is Jeff." There was no category tag for him, he noticed. Open-ended to taunt the 'acquaintance'? Or was she confused of his status?

Jareth was looking over Jeff with an obviously critical eye, inspecting him in the manner of a territorial feline scrutinizing an intruder. He realized his eyes didn't match. It made Jeff vaguely nervous.

"I'm going to run and put these in some water real quick, alright? You two play nice for a minute," Sarah said, and promptly swished her way into the kitchen. Jareth broke his cool, dispassionate inspection long enough to watch Sarah's hips disappear around the kitchen wall. Jeff narrowed his eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Jareth," he said politely, giving him a small nod. _Jareth-_ definitely a rock-star or something. Only mildly famous people could pull off that sort of unusual look with that sort of unusual name. The man-shaped block of ice gave no response. Jeff shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't think I've seen you around. Just in town visiting or something?" he tried again. The ice-block twitched a lip.

"Or something," he drawled lazily. He cast a slow glance towards the sound of running water in the kitchen, leaving Jeff with very few doubts as to what those sort of something's were. The guy's attitude was starting to grate a little on Jeff's nerves.

"So, are you going to be staying long?" he said, making one last effort. Jareth shrugged.

"Perhaps. It depends on certain factors," he replied vaguely. Now that he had spoken more than two consecutive words, Jeff noticed he had an accent. _Great. One more point to the rock-star._ Good-looking in an exotic, unique manner, bad-boy confidence, _and_ an accent?

This really wasn't fair.

* * *

The interloper was antsy.

It sort of made Jareth want to hunt something.

He really was annoyingly average, too. Mildly charming, blandly attractive, bearing flowers and candy and thinly veiled intentions. Matching-eyed. Aggravating.

"Such as?" The interloper insisted on this inane chatter. Irritating.

"Such as certain factors. Of what interest is it to you?" Jareth said, perhaps a little shortly. He suspected Sarah was toying with them. How long did it take to fill a vase?

"Well, I don't want to intrude if you and Sarah were spending a little time together before you left," he said, obviously insinuating that he was confident Sarah would chose him over her 'old acquaintance'. Cocky. Jareth arched an eyebrow and let the hint of a smirk tug at his mouth.

"Please, intrude all you wish. Sarah and I have plenty of time," he assured the interloper. "I would have been more accurately introduced as a 'recently renewed' acquaintance, I suppose," Jareth said carelessly. He was amused that Sarah had chosen that title for him; he understood what it inferred. Jeff stiffened at his claim.

"Still, I wouldn't want to be rude," he protested woodenly. Jareth couldn't hide the smirk this time.

"And I suppose you think some dead flowers will steal her attention away from me?" he inquired amusedly. "How quaint. I suppose you've prepared dinner at a pricey restaurant as well? With violin players to serenade you while you eat, perhaps?"

Jeff glared, all pretense of politeness evaporated. Jareth smiled.

"Oh, you actually did, didn't you? My apologies."

"For your information, women love that sort of thing," Jeff said defensively.

Jareth cocked his eyebrow higher. "Indeed?" he crossed his arms casually, settling himself more comfortably against the doorframe. "Perhaps that's where I've been going wrong in my courtships. Here I've been tossing live serpents in her face and consistently putting her in mortal peril, when I should have been putting my effort into finding a tacky restaurant and some dying plants. How silly," he said, and heard a quiet noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled snort of laughter from the kitchen. He smirked. So she _was_ toying with them.

"Well, at least _I_ don't need a genital billboard to attract women," the interloper hissed, giving Jareth's pants a pointed look. Jareth raised his eyebrows, ignoring the choking sounds emitted from the kitchen, and looked down at his ensemble. He'd toned it down, for Sarah's benefit. The poor man may have had a stroke, had he seen Jareth's original outfit. He then eyed Jeff's clothing and nodded.

"Indeed not, as I see you have Sarah so securely in your grasp. Perhaps I should dress more like you. You wouldn't happen to have a shirt to lend me, would you? Perhaps in white, I think," Jareth mused, tapping his chin. Jeff glowered, rage boiling under his skin.

Jareth decided he had changed his mind about the interloper. He was actually a good bit of fun.

* * *

This was actually going rather well. Jareth hadn't bogged or goblin-ized Jeff yet, and Jeff was obviously intimidated by Jareth's otherworldly appeal. Unfortunately, Jareth didn't seem to be in the least bit intimidated by Jeff, which meant I might have to ham it up a little with him. It would probably lead Jeff on a bit, but desperate times and all that.

Jareth seemed to think that he was completely irresistible, and I needed to fix that. Regardless of the truth of the statement. I had also been hoping that confronting Jeff with the likes of my Goblin King would set his head straight about the whole relationship thing, but it seemed unlikely to stick.

Jareth seemed to be getting a bit snarky, however. I left the roses on the counter next to the dying daisies and returned to the battlefield.

"Okay, sorry about that, couldn't decide where to put them. I'm terrible at decorating, you know," I apologized to Jeff, and slanted Jareth a look. He grinned amusedly. "So, ready to go?"

"Oh, of course," Jeff said, and cast a pointed glance at Jareth. "Will we be escorting you out, Jareth?" he asked politely. Jareth grinned, and looked as though he were contemplating saying no, but nodded and joined us by the door.

"That's so considerate of you, Jed. I am actually on my way out." Jeff twitched, and I rolled my eyes at Jareth and shot him a look. _Messing up his name. Real mature. _

Jareth caught my eye and shrugged nonchalantly. _Couldn't help myself. _

I led the boys down the stairs, and congratulated Jeff on finding his way up this time, while Jareth made smug comments about owning a Labyrinth several times more complicated than any apartment building could ever be. I decided to officially declare it the Most Awkward Staircase Descent in the History of Man, and breathed a sigh of relief as we reached outside.

"I'll see you sometime, Jareth," I said noncommittally. Jareth winked and leaned down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Sometime soon, I trust," he replied, and turned, letting Jeff and I watch him walk out into the darkness.

"Well. He was… an interesting fellow," Jeff remarked. I laughed, leading Jeff to his Challenger waiting in the parking lot.

"He's kind of an acquired taste," I said.

"Hmph. I think I may have to pass," Jeff said. I laughed again.

"It actually took me years to get back in contact with him. He's not so bad the second time around, though," I assured him, sliding into the driver's seat. Jeff looked in the direction Jareth had disappeared in, and grimaced faintly.

"He seemed a little… off, to me," he confessed, his brow furrowed. I smiled.

"Yeah, he is," I agreed, and started the car as Jeff slid in. "But then again, I suppose it depends on your basis for comparison."

* * *

**A/N: **Alright, kittens, there you have it. No epic Battle To The Death or anything, but really, if I blew all that now, what would I have to build up to in later chapters? :D And here's a little tibit you all may find interesting: I originally intended for Jeff to be a legitimate rival for Sarah's affections. (No, really!) Unfortunately, Sarah was having none of this, and remained stubbornly resistant to his adorableness, regardless of my efforts to the contrary. It was a little bit discouraging, actually. It's as if a bit of my brain had gone rogue and was staging a plot rebellion. I wonder if this is what they mean when they say that writing makes you a little bit crazy? Anyways.

(Poor Jeff. _I_ still like him. Maybe I'll give him a little original oneshot ficcy to himself, with no Goblin King to make him feel pitifully inferior.)

I would love to know what you gals thought of the Man-Off! (And on a side note - I loved my reviews on the last chapter. I was seriously in stitches! You guys are hilarious. Thank you so much!)

WINNER OF THE GRINCHY REFERENCE: darkbangle (But the rest of you did me proud! SEUSS FANS, UNITE!)

**MyraValhallah** - Ah! Alright, then that makes loads of sense. :) Thank you, darling!

**DarkDreamer1982** - I do indeed know of pallets! I unfortunately must deal with them on occasion. And they are abominably heavy, let me tell you. And thank you for your leniency with my sporadic updating habits! :D I hope all goes well for you!

**CoffeeKris** - I think you may be one of my favorite people ever. Shadow-frolicking, blatant flattery, a firm stick-it-to-the-man attitude, and you have coffee in your name? I'm fairly sure this is meant to be. Also - there is no such thing as horrible 90's pop; once it's over ten years old, it's considered 'nostalgic'. Sounds much better when asked 'what the heck is that crap you're listening to?'

**Clara954**- Aww! I'm so flattered! Thank you for that, darling! (And I promise your questions shall eventually be answered!)

**Nanenna** - -chokes- Oh, goodness, I laughed so hard.  
Geez, Sarah, what is wrong with you? Just make with the pants-removal, already…

**Skylinger** - Hope I didn't disappoint!

**Cybernetic Mango** - Intriguingly vague. :) Glad to hear you are well, luv!

**Lindzxhatter **- I agree - I could have had Jareth in a pinto and still wouldn't have kept my cool. Sarah is practically a bastion of self-control.

**Bright Lotus** - Fear not, love, there are a few more chapters yet!

**Saoirse09 **- Alas, actions and consequences and all that nonsense. :) Glad you enjoyed, love!

**Sallafe K** - Peanut! Oh, I nearly choked when I read this! And then I promptly fetched some popcorn and settled in for a Dunham marathon. :D

**Darkbangle **- :D I had tons of fun writing that. Also spent a lot of time wishing I had a sweet muscle car I could whip a hot guy around in, but alas. My Buick is far more economic, if less sexy.

**Mystic Mundane** - Cookie Toss! How fantastic is that? Honestly, that should be like the national sport, or something. I would certainly root for that.

**KaikenCollison **- Thank you, darling! And I have to agree. I think all this plot nonsense is getting in the way of the JS-ness. Blasted plot.

**Little Margarita** - Oh, I agree. Heads would be arollin' if I discovered my car had been saturated in glitter. Unless of course I found Jareth along side of it, in which case I would probably be just a tad more forgiving, but I am a hopeless sap.

**Jane Owen** - Sorry to keep you waiting so long after that little sneak peak! Rather unkind of me, wasn't it? I would like to say that something truly important kept me from posting in a timely manner, but the truth is that I am lazy and easily distracted. :( Alas.

**Creative-Insanity **- Oh, goodness. That does sound serious. You know, a little glitter will cover those stains right up. (I offer this advice in the hopes that it may forestay the beak of a particularly ferocious Chikin Of Destiny. I fear for my extremities.)

**Mnleonard **- Yes! I watch it all year round. I tried to sneak a Cat in the Hat reference in there too, but honestly, it's harder than it sounds. :D

**Insanityfairy **- Haha! Hope you enjoyed, darling. And thank you for the heads up!

**The-Holy-Disciple-Of-Muse **- Haha! Your review made me smile. Thank you, darling, and hope this one is up to standards! :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I'm pretty much fried, right now... Nothing witty is coming to mind. Don't own.

**Warning: **This chapter is Naughty. Yes, we have delved back into the M rated side of things - nothing to bad happens until the end of the chapter (and even then, it isn't _awful_) but if it isn't your cup of tea, feel free to pretty much skip the rest of the chap after Sarah gets back home from the midnight picnic with Jareth. :)

Fun Fact: This is actually two chapters in one. :D Rejoice!

**

* * *

Chapter Eleven**

This was officially the Most Awkward Date, Ever. Period.

In my (not really) extensive dating experience, I have endured several outings of epically bad quality: once, I had I blind date take me to an aquarium, where he thought it would be endearing and amusing to bob for sea urchins. He apparently overlooked the sign mentioning that they were poisonous.

Another time, a guy had taken me to an art show. The artist was his ex-girlfriend. Who he'd broken up with three days prior. It turned out 'art show' was actually code for 'sob fest'.

And there was the guy who 'accidentally' poured a bottle of champagne down my dress and then tried to help clean it up - with his _tongue_. In the _restaurant_.

But this… really topped them all.

Jeff was once again ignoring my 'just friends' vibe. This was supposed to strictly be a colleague-date; Jeff had asked me to accompany him in the stead of a client, not an absent love interest, however, I was seriously starting to doubt that story. I wasn't fawning over him, I wasn't making kissy-eyes at him, and my feet were staying firmly on _my_ side of the table - but Señor Dense over there was still flirting for all he was worth. He'd already told me about seven times so far that I looked absolutely beautiful tonight, and I was starting to seriously regret dolling myself up for Jareth. Also, if he didn't unglue his eyes from my legs, I was going to poke them out.

Okay, so, fine, it was a little bit my fault for wearing such a… well, such a provocative dress, but I honestly didn't expect to have _this_ hard of a time keeping Jeff friend-focused. I had even gone so far as to wink at the waiter, for Hoggle's sake. Twice.

And the restaurant he had taken us to - on Valentine's Day - was clearly a romantic hotspot.

When we had walked in (to a rather over-the-top, Hey-Mr.-Money greeting from the Maître d') we were immediately escorted to the balcony, skipping over the three other waiting couples. Rather than impress me, as was probably intended, I felt like I should apologize to the people whose place in line we'd just stolen. It felt rude.

And, lining the path to our secluded balcony table were, joy, more dead flowers.

Again with the roses and plucked petals… I absently wondered how many roses had died so I could tread on their carcasses tonight.

Somewhere at the other end of the balcony, hidden by a vine-covered trellis, was a female singer crooning softly in a sensual, romantic voice, accompanied by violins. There was always a nearby waiter to refill my wine glass whenever I finished it, and he held the glass _just so_. Candles were everywhere, making me wonder just how safe it was for someone as accident prone as me to be around, and the mood lighting was so movie-set perfect I half expected a director to come over and re-arrange our table to fit the scene better.

Alas, the charm was wasted; I felt nothing for the man sitting across from me but a deep, abiding love for his car.

Jeff had cycled through his usual reel of amusing anecdotes and endearing observations, and was obviously at a loss for what to say. He'd actually re-told a story I'd heard a week ago at the coffee shop. I didn't really have anything to add to the conversation, either - what was I going to tell him about, my triumph over the ridiculously sexy Goblin King, via his goblin subjects, that would allow me more control in our relationship, whatever that might be? Hardly appropriate table talk.

As I watched my third glass of wine being refilled, I decided to look on the bright side: though the food was a little bland, I had a fairly decent buzz going, and on the drive here I had successfully kept Jeff too scared to talk and was able to imagine it was Jareth sitting next to me. I wondered offhandedly what he was up to right now.

Once, I glimpsed a blonde waiter a few tables over, but he turned out to be just a college-age boy (who's hair was actually a dirty, nearly brown color in the light) waiting his way through school. And his eyes matched.

As dessert and after-dinner wine dragged on, I started wishing for a candle to tip over, a fight to break out, or a small natural disaster to strike, _anything_ to end this interminable dinner. Jeff had eventually struck up a conversation with one of the waiters, and they were chatting amiably about their grandmothers, who apparently played canasta together on Sundays.

This was _unbearable…_

I rested my chin in my hand and stared into my wineglass, willing it to reveal an avenue of escape, when I suddenly realized the light patterns in the liquid were hardly random. By holding the glass still and tilting my head a bit, I could see a picture on its surface. Actually, it was more of a movie. There was a movie in my wine.

A movie of Jareth.

I blinked. Inspected a candle flame for a moment. Attempted to listen to Jeff blathering about his grandmother.

It was still there when I looked back.

Intrigued, I watched for a moment. Was he projecting this to me?

He was sitting in an overstuffed, comfortable looking chair, facing a merrily dancing fire, his face blank as though lost in thought. I smiled a little. He really was beautiful.

I watched for a moment as the firelight danced over him, making the rise and fall of his chest and the absent twirling of his fingers around a crystal ball unusually fascinating. After a moment he brought the crystal to his face and looked at it, his brow furrowing slightly, and then stiffened, sitting up a little straighter. I found myself doing the same, trying to peer into the ball and see what had made him react like that. Was it the goblins? Was something wrong?

He stared at the crystal a little longer, and abruptly lifted his head, looking to the side -

And straight at me.

I blinked, surprised, and felt a shiver run through me. We were making eye contact. There was no doubt.

I wasn't really sure what to do. I could put the glass down, or throw it, I supposed, to break the contact. Then I could focus on my pseudo-date like a good not-girlfriend.

Or I could sit there and watch Jareth watching me watch him. Which really sounded like a lot more fun.

Mind made up, I relaxed into my chair and cocked an eyebrow at my wineglass. _Well?_

Jareth blinked, and slowly smiled, relaxing into his own chair and looking extremely satisfied. I rolled my eyes and he laughed. He looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes glazing over a little, and rose, walking behind the chair a few paces. My wineglass camera followed his movements, though the picture blurred just a little. He walked a little slower, and the image sharpened.

Satisfied, he stopped and looked directly at me, his lips moving. I frowned and shook my head minimally. _No good. Can't hear._

He frowned, and then shrugged. I agreed - I was already watching him via an alcoholic beverage. What more was I expecting?

Curious as to what Jareth would do, knowing I was watching, a small smile crawled onto my face. This was kind of neat. I liked this. I wondered if I was the one doing this, and if so, if I could learn to do this on command, or only when I was abominably bored.

Jareth considered me for a moment, and then smiled slyly. I felt my heart skip a beat as a dull heat crept into his expression, and watched as he slowly brought his gloved fingers to his mouth and started to pull a glove off _with his teeth_.

One finger at a time, he bit down and tugged gently, exposing a tiny bit more skin with each movement, until he had removed it entirely, and I was looking at his bare hand for the first time. His fingers were… really long.

My heartbeat sped up and I tried to regulate my breathing. I was pretty sure I was blushing a little by the time he got the second one off. Who knew hand-stripping was so erotic?

Jareth had kept his eyes locked firmly on mine, and now broke the eye-contact as he lifted his shirt over his head and dropped it carelessly on the floor.

I felt my body temperature go up a few degrees.

Good _God_, he was hot.

Jareth wasn't ripped, or anything, but he had a lithe, powerful build; lean and quick-looking, the kind of muscle a martial artist builds, and his shoulders were masculine and extremely touchable. His skin was pale and smooth, pleasantly colored by the nearby firelight, and also looked quite enjoyable to touch. In fact, his entire body looked in need of a good fondle.

Jareth's hands moved to his pants, and I put the glass down, breathing heavily.

"Sarah? You alright?" Jeff asked, looking me over worriedly. Well, at least he wasn't drooling over my legs. I nodded.

"Yeah, I think the wine is just getting to me a little," I lied, and pressed a hand to my forehead. "Would you mind if we left?"

"No, no, of course not." He turned to the waiter and requested the check while I downed the rest of my wine to keep from accidentally catching sight of a naked Jareth and going into shock or something.

The walk to the car was awkward, and made even more so by the jealous, hateful glare the redheaded hostess flashed me after Jeff bid her goodnight.

I tried to communicate that she was welcome to him, please distract him now, but she was too busy cutting me to itty bitty pieces with her eye daggers to read my unspoken message, apparently. I turned back around and tried to pretend I couldn't feel her murdering me in her mind as we walked out.

As we approached the car, Jeff held out his hand expectantly, as though he were expecting the keys or something. I regarded his outstretched hand disdainfully. He sighed.

"Sarah, you had enough wine to affect you, therefore you should not be driving. Particularly not the way _you_ drive," he reasoned.

Oh. Right. Wine headache, forgot.

I scowled as I reluctantly handed over the keys. "I can drive normally," I pouted, walking around to the passenger side for the first time in days. "It's just boring."

"I believe the word you are looking for is actually '_safe_', or perhaps '_legal_'," Jeff replied. I scowled harder.

"Or maybe '_dull_', or '_inexcusable in a car meant for racing_'," I quipped back, and smacked my head painfully on the roof as I slid in. "_Ow!_"

"And that's why _I'm_ driving," Jeff said. I shot him a look.

"_You_ are driving because I don't feel like wrestling you for key ownership right now," I said, and leaned back, distending my stomach and making a show of looking content. "I'm full."

Jeff laughed, pulling out into traffic.

* * *

Thank God she was talking again.

All throughout dinner she had been distant and dull, only half listening to him prattling on about whatever fraying conversational thread he could grasp while she picked at her fifty dollar meal and chugged her hundred dollar wine. He'd even retold a story he'd been over the other day in the coffee shop, and she hadn't even noticed! If she hadn't said something, he'd been prepared to reveal his obsession with Star Wars and hope valiantly that uncovering something embarrassing may tickle the sadist in her and at least win him a little attention.

She still looked a little huffy about him driving, but a Huffy Sarah was still better than an Ice Queen Sarah. He suspected she'd picked up a few habits from that stupid 'acquaintance'.

Sneaking another glance at her, Jeff noticed she was watching his hands on the steering wheel with a slightly dreamy look on her face. Smirking, Jeff slid his hands over the leather suggestively, caressing its smooth, rounded surface as he guided the car around a turn. Sarah's eyes glazed and a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Jeff grinned. Driving could definitely work in his favor.

Quickly switching lanes, he mentally plotted a longer route to her apartment, dropping a hand to fondle the shift handle as he changed gears.

Sarah's thighs twitched a little, and Jeff grinned in triumph. He didn't know what it was with her and cars, but he had no qualms about milking this for all it was worth.

* * *

It had occurred to me that I was sitting in the exact place Jareth's leather-clad ass had occupied during Operation: Thigh Fondle. Which meant that I now had Jareth's view of how I had looked on our little drive, and I had to say, I never realized _watching_ someone drive could be as exciting as doing the driving myself. Had my hands looked that sensual on the steering wheel? I wished Jeff wore black leather driving gloves…

As Jeff switched gears, I remembered the feeling of Jareth's unnaturally warm fingers on my bare leg and grinned a little. I couldn't wait to talk to him about that wine thing. Was I really magic? I mean, I knew we'd had that whole _You-stole-my-magic,-you-twit, No-I-didn't-you-pooftard_ thing in my kitchen, but I wasn't totally warmed up to the idea yet. He'd seemed surprised when he found me spying on him though, so it probably hadn't been his doing…

Remembering the other, highly enjoyable moments of the Wineglass Movie, I grinned and felt myself blushing. Man, those _hands_…

I realized I was turning myself on thinking about another guy while in the car with the one who had just taken me to dinner, albeit a supposed "colleague-type outing", and that this was probably considered tacky. I also realized that I had consumed enough wine not to care overmuch and that it was probably a good idea Jareth was driving after all.

Uh, _Jeff, _I meant. _Jeff_ was driving.

Could Jareth even drive? What would be his car, if he somehow procured a license, I wondered… God, I could just imagine him on a motorcycle, especially with all that leather he liked to wear.

I realized I was clenching my thighs together, as though I were on the back of a Jareth-driven bike, and firmly put a lid on those thoughts. I was in the car with _Jeff_, and I was going to talk and be nice to _Jeff_, and then I was going to go up to my apartment and _not_ call on any nearby magical kings.

Despite the little alcoholic striptease, I still had a point to prove with Jareth. I was not _his_; my kingdom was as great and my will as strong and _I_ was the one with the power, thank you very much, and I would not tolerate him being all snippy with me like that. And I was not a twit. Dammit.

And I was _not_ thinking about Jareth - _Cripes, Sarah, get a grip._ My brain seemed to have taken a holiday, leaving only the glitter-drenched, hormonal interns to hold down the fort in its absence. Clearly, my brain should not be left with tasking responsibilities until this Jareth infatuation -

I suddenly realized we were pulling into my apartment complex. And I had not said a single word to Jeff through the entire drive, instead being distracted to arousal by thoughts of Jareth.

God, I was in trouble.

Jeff slid the car into a space and put it in park, and as I looked over to say goodnight, I realized Jeff must have noticed my mood.

And thought I was hot for _him_.

He was looking at me hungrily, blue eyes lit up with lust and a small grin of satisfaction on his perfectly shaped, plump lips as he leaned toward me in the intimate interior of his car. I leaned backwards against the door and blinked.

"Uh, Jeff-"

"Sarah, you are so beautiful, and amazing, and brilliant. The way you look tonight…" his big, glowy eyes raked over my figure, and I tugged at my dress's hemline.

"Uh, thanks, but-"

"It's alright, Sarah, just…" he leaned in closer, _seriously_ invading my personal bubble, and I smelled wine on his breath.

Why, that conniving, double-standard-ed cheat! He'd been drinking too, why couldn't _I _have driven-

All of a sudden, Jeff was kissing me, and I blinked again.

Oops.

I made a noise of apologetic protest in my throat, which he misinterpreted and responded to with a husky groan of his own. I tried again, this time putting a hand on his chest and shoving hard.

His mouth parted ways with mine with a _smack _of separation, and I gave him a 'sorry, but' look.

"Jeff, I'm sorry, but-"

He smiled at me. "I understand, Sarah, you're a little worried, but I promise we can take it slow. I won't rush you into-"

"No, Jeff, that's not-"

"Shh, Sar, it's alright, I-"

"_No_, I'm serious, that's not-"

He rolled his eyes affectionately and promptly plastered his lips back to mine.

I huffed. _Really?_

Balling my hand this time, I pushed him off again and glared, warning him to keep his lips on his own face.

"Jeff, chill out! I swear, if you don't _back off_ I'm going to bog your ass so fast_-"_ I froze, gasping and clapping a hand over my mouth.

"What, what?"

"Oh, my god. I just threatened to bog someone." Crap. Why did I keep unconsciously acting like I was Queen of the Goblins?

"Wait, what? Bog is a noun, not a verb," Jeff said, confused and frowning. I turned and threw open the car door.

"I've gotta go, dinner was nice and thanks for the car loan, please don't kiss me again," I said, and hurried up to my apartment, leaving Jeff in his car gaping like a landed trout in a sweet, midnight-blue boat.

* * *

Jeff stared after Sarah as she disappeared into her apartment building, blinking in confusion and hurt.

…_What?_

He didn't understand. What went wrong? He'd done flowers, chocolate, the romantic restaurant, the amusing stories and the smooth lines, the powerful and sexy car - he'd _seen_ the blatant desire in her face! _Everything_ for the perfect date, he'd nailed. This had never failed so spectacularly before. Didn't women like being pampered, feeling like they were the center of attention, the VIP of the night?

Jeff glared at the empty seat next to him. What did he not have that her arrogant, irritatingly smug ex-lover did? Aside from poor fashion choices and an abominable haircut.

Jeff pulled out his phone to call a cab, and abruptly stopped.

Sarah was not interested in him. She'd shown that perfectly well by rejecting his kiss (which was another thing he didn't understand - he was a _phenomenal_ kisser, dammit, why didn't she swoon?). Why should he continue to pursue and pamper her if it was unwelcome?

Snapping his phone shut, he put his car back in gear. He'd call to have her own car towed to her when it was fixed, and she could come begging to him on apologetic hands and knees if she needed a ride that bad. Or get her _acquaintance_ to give her a lift, for all he cared. He'd be damned if he was going to sit around playing the sap for her anymore.

Pulling back into traffic, he slipped his headset on and dialed information.

"Address for Denise Cormack, please."

* * *

Jareth crushed the crystal in his hand.

The interloper was going in the Bog. And then he'd be torn apart by the cleaners, and then put back together and dismembered by Jareth, personally, while tiny carnivorous fairies nibbled his face away, and then fed piecemeal to a giant serpent (which was fitting because he was obviously a _snake_) and then boiled in more Bog water and then…

And then something. Jareth was too livid to form a proper plan. He formed another crystal, watching Sarah reject the slime with abhorrence and felt a tiny bit better.

How _dare_ he have the audacity to make an advance on _his_ Sarah, particularly when she was so obviously attracted to someone else (_him, dammit) _and clearly not thinking of-

He kissed her _again_. Jareth nearly had an aneurysm.

A few moments passed during which coherent thought was completely out of the question. The interloper must be obliterated. His lips must be burned off with acid and then fed to live alligators and then… something.

Jareth closed his eyes tightly and reminded himself that some good had come of this… event. Not only had Sarah firmly expressed her displeasure with the situation, but she had instinctively threatened the interloper in a manner only the Queen of the Labyrinth, only _his_ wife, could execute. It calmed him enough to realize that Sarah must be confronted immediately, before she began analyzing things and undoing any progress that had been made.

Also, he was extremely curious about her far-seeing incident.

A few more deep breaths and Jareth's temper was nearly under control. Snapping his fingers, he called a few of his more intelligent goblins to him.

They saluted in something that may vaguely have been considered unison.

"Follow the interloper. Make absolutely certain that the rest of his night is not pleasant, and I will pardon your treasonous indiscretions and rescind your sentences," he ordered. The goblins grinned mischievously, equally excited for the opportunity to cause havoc and escape the bog, and saluted again, disappearing with small _cracks_.

Jareth closed his eyes and formed a quick plan, pushing all thoughts of murder and bloody revenge from his mind until a more appropriate time.

…_Perhaps something with leeches_…

* * *

I could hear the goblins inside, wailing and laughing. _Crap_.

I sighed, resting my forehead on my apartment door, unable to force the hand gripping the knob to turn and push. I _really_ did not feel like rowdy goblins tonight, especially if they were going to smell like the Bog…

_Okay. Deep breath. Zen,_ I schooled myself. _You can do this. It's only goblins._

I opened the door and cringed as I saw them all gathered around something sharp, shiny, and multi-parted.

A particularly harmful-looking silver contraption sprang up, to a chorus of "oooooooh's" from the goblins, and I rushed forward before they impaled their eyeballs on it.

"Hey, guys! What's going on?" I asked with forced calm and cheer. Tooka's brightly colored beak whipped in my direction and upon recognizing me he sent up a shout of "Lady Sarah! Your Tallness!" which the rest of the group took to with enthusiasm. I frantically shushed them - midnight was not the time to be hailing Her Tallness - and after a few moments it had developed into a game: Someone would shout, the rest of the goblins would make just as much noise shushing them, and then they would all giggle and bop each other on the heads as they made exaggerated shushing movements.

I sighed and wished I really could bog things. Jareth was so lucky, sometimes…

It ended after a few moments, when Dizz stepped on a particularly pointy attachment from the army knife and yelped. A few goblins tried to shush him, but he held up the contraption and everyone remembered why they'd been here.

"Look look look, Lady Sarah! See what we gots!" he hollered excitedly, and I promised myself that if I really got kicked out of my apartment, Jareth was footing the bill for my next one.

"It's very…shiny," I said, trying my best not to sound terrified. "What is it?"

"It's a 'Tool of Imminent Destruction'!" one of them yelled.

"And where did you get the nice Tool of Imminent Destruction?" I asked, though I was already quite sure where they'd obtained it.

"King gave it to us!"

"Yeah! King says it has eighbty-seben thingamabobs, but we only counted a hundrety-thirty-twelve, so far…" Dizz said with a little frown. I patted his coffee-mug clad head.

"Don't worry. I'm sure if the King said it has eighty-seven parts, it has them," I assured him.

"Said with eighetby…ebethey…eighbty…" he trailed off, his face screwed up in concentration.

"Eighty-seven," I supplied, and he perked up and continued.

"Yeah! With that many thingies, we were _bound_ to find a way to kill ourselves!" he said happily.

"Yeah, but we haddint, yet, so we gotsta keep tryin," said Keego, and he promptly stabbed his finger into a corkscrew and wailed in agony, and was swiftly followed by six or seven more of his companions.

Darting a hand into the middle of the horde, I snatched the Tool of Imminent Eviction and held it above my head, impervious to the groans it caused.

"I've got a present for you guys that's _way_ better than this," I said over their unhappy voices, which caused an upswing in the general mood. "I'll go and get it, but you all have to promise me something before I give it to you," I said. Dizz pouted.

"Aww. Your promises always make things boring," he objected. I rolled my eyes and flicked his coffee mug. He jumped at the _tink_ and glared at me.

"Rules are rules, pal. Now, I'll only give you the Fantastic Surprise if you promise - _pinky_ promise - to only play with it in the Labyrinth," I said, holding out my pinky to Dizz. He eyed my finger for a moment, before reluctantly linking his little digit around mine and giving it a firm swing and a squeeze. I grinned and bent down to give him a kiss on his coffee mug before turning to each goblin and repeating the process.

Once I was satisfied, I told them all to line up outside my bedroom door and went to go dig some more 'royalties' out of my closet.

One at a time, the goblins filed in and poofed away as I handed out a variety of items, including superballs, kazoos, edible bubbles, non-toxic washable crayons, sidewalk chalk, and inner tubes with duckies imprinted on the sides to make the bog more tolerable.

Jareth was in for a good time.

The last goblin came to stand before me, absolutely _reeking _of bog, and I grinned down at my little defender.

Ziggy looked up at me in cross-eyed adoration, apparently unaffected by his damp clothes and horrid smell.

Bending down to his height, I reached into the closet for something special I had held back.

"The other goblins told me how fearless and leaderly you were during your mission, Ziggy," I said. The little goblin beamed, puffing his chest out adorably and positively glowing with pride. I laughed, and pulled out his gift. "For your uncommon valor in the face of boggy adversity, and for unflagging fidelity under extreme duress, I, Lady Sarah, hereby dub you my official bodyguard. Take this gift as a token of my gratitude," I said solemnly, and handed him a double-tanked super soaker.

Ziggy was awestruck. You'd have thought I'd just handed him the Holy Grail. I let him gaze at it lovingly for a moment before explaining what it did and how to use it, after which the awe shifted into excited impishness, and he promptly thanked me and poofed off to go torment his little friends.

I smiled. That had worked out fairly well. Not only had I rid myself of the goblins without resorting to banishing them, but I had almost certainly ruined Jareth's night.

All was well in my world.

Calling for my puppy, I hooked him to his leash and took him out for his last walk, torn between drawing another bath (those soap leaves were really addicting) when I got back, or popping in a nice, gory, violence-filled action movie in which someone with a nice jaw line and either black or platinum blonde hair (or one of each, if I was lucky) got the crap beat out of them.

Mister Puppy didn't really care what I did, so long as it didn't interfere with him chasing invisible squirrels.

"Domino, _quit doing that!_" I yelled, rubbing my poor, abraded wrist from where my blasted dog's leash had removed skin. Domino huffed and glared out into the darkness, growling a warning at any small rodents that may be laughing at him.

I rolled my eyes and tried to tug him back toward the building. He shot a look at the trees, turned and gave me a short glare, and promptly plunked his furry butt down on the path and did an impressive impersonation of an immovable granite statue.

I nearly cried.

"_No,_ puppy, _please_ don't do the statue thing," I begged. He stared resolutely out into the inky dark, ignoring me completely. I pouted and whined and stomped my spike-heeled feet.

"That's not fair! _I'm _the human; _I'm_ supposed to decide where we go and when we stop and for how long, dammit!" I complained. Domino snorted, but otherwise did not react to my argument.

I huffed angrily and stomped over to stand in front of him, bending down and cupping his face in my hands, looking him in the eye.

"If you come upstairs with me now and quit trying to drag me all over this damned ten-by-ten stretch of trees, I'll give you a nice big piece of fried chicken and a piece of bacon, but if you _don't_, you will never _see_ another slice of bacon for the rest of your miserable, furry life," I threatened. Domino eyed me impassively for a moment, and then chuffed in agreement and headed back to the light of my building. I sighed in relief and gladly followed, dying to get out of these shoes. _Note to self: tromping around on a dirt-and-gravel trail not advisable in strappy heels._ I was fairly certain my little toe had been sanded off.

The shoes came off the second I entered my apartment, and I dug my toes into the carpet in microfibered bliss.

"Mmm, thank god for plush carpets," I sighed happily, and made my way to the kitchen to make good on my promise to Domino.

He paced impatiently behind me while I heated and prepared his snack, which I did not hurry in the least. I shot him a glance as I finished.

"You know, you don't actually deserve this," I said. He just gave me those big, sorrowful eyes, his adorable little black-spotted chin quivering, and I really couldn't help but _aww_ at him and hand over the chicken. He gently took it from my fingers and then dashed to my room and dove under the bed faster than a streak of Dalmatian-y lightning.

"You'd better not leave any crumbs under there, mister!" I called after him. Blasted dog…

I followed his footsteps out of the kitchen, eager to tread on my lovely, comforting carpet once more-

And found my toes instead cushioned on blades of cool, damp grass. Blinking, I looked around at my living room-turned-midnight meadow, which, while very pretty and all, was actually not where I had intended to be. The moon was full and huge, adequately illuminating the dark grass and moon-silvered flowers that dotted the field. Trees loomed, nearly a half a mile away, and the air was warm enough not to be uncomfortable in my short, sleeveless dress. Apparently, my apartment had been traded out for a summertime garden while I wasn't looking.

I didn't see Jareth, nor any sign of him.

Had _I _done this by accident?

I sighed, closing my eyes and _seriously_ deciding to weasel some control-lessons out of Jareth. I couldn't just be conjuring movies in my beverages willy-nilly and teleporting myself to random fields for no apparent reason all the time…

Suddenly a length of cloth covered my eyes, and I panicked as I felt a tug at the back of my head as it was tied in place. My hands darted upwards, instinctively trying to restore my vision, but their path was obstructed by a pair of warm, gloved ones.

I relaxed as I realized it was Jareth, and sighed out the air that had been about to power a scream.

"Apologies, precious thing. Didn't mean to startle you," he murmured into my hair, his hands gently caressing mine as he nuzzled at my neck. I shivered a little bit.

"And I'm to believe that, despite the fact that you flat out _told_ me you enjoy seeing me jump," I said skeptically, trying to keep my previous irritation with him alive. Unfortunately, he wasn't cooperating.

Jareth made some sort of pleasantly inappropriate sound of agreement, and threaded his fingers through mine, pulling my arms with his as they surrounded my waist and pulled me against his chest.

It was a very nice feeling, being wrapped up in his arms like that. I felt very wanted, very safe. Wanted, safe… and loved.

Jareth sighed a little, content and cozy, and placed a small kiss behind my ear. His heart gently beat against my back, steady and calm.

My chest did some sort of twisty-clenchy thing, and I untwined our arms, stepping out of his embrace. I suddenly felt irrationally guilty for kissing Jeff in the car, and a little overwhelmed at the sensation of absolute _love_ radiating from Jareth now, and then the whole magic thing…

I reached up again to pull off the blindfold, but Jareth stopped me again.

"Let me be your eyes tonight, Sarah mine," he requested. I could practically see his smile in my mind as he spoke again. "I recently was blindfolded myself, and found it a refreshing, surprisingly enjoyable experience," he teased. I grinned in spite of myself and allowed him to take my hand and lead me a few steps.

"Alright, as long as you don't lead me off a cliff or anything," I agreed. Jareth led me a few feet, and I felt as I stepped from grass onto a soft blanket. I _knew_ there had been no blanket lying around moments ago, so Jareth must be over-timing on the magic, I decided. We stopped, and Jareth lightly pushed on my shoulders, indicating I should sit. I complied, curling my legs beside me and folding my hands in my lap while I waited.

Something floral scented and soft brushed my cheek, and I felt my heart sink a little.

"Cut flowers?" I asked nonchalantly. I sensed as Jareth moved in front of me and sat down.

"Hardly," he replied casually, and took my hand again, placing it on the bloom. I felt the flower, probably a rose, and slid a petal between my fingers. Smiling, I realized it wasn't real.

"Velvet roses," I said happily. Jareth didn't reply, and I tried not to feel uncomfortable at the idea of him watching me while I was blind. Which reminded me…

"So earlier, in my wineglass… what was that about?" I asked, aiming for nonchalance again, but falling short this time. Jareth was fiddling with something, and the urge to peek under the blindfold and watch him was nearly overwhelming, so I fidgeted with my dress to keep my rebellious fingers in check. I could smell something cooking, something salty-smelling with a sort of sweet, fruity undertone, and my stomach reminded me that I hadn't done a whole lot of eating at dinner. I smirked to myself. Of course Jareth was going to try and show Jeff up.

It felt like he was humoring me when he answered. "You were scrying," he replied. I cocked an eyebrow over my blindfold, imitating one of his gestures. He chuckled.

"It's a form of farseeing; observing events that are not in your range of physical sight."

"I've never done that before," I said. I could imagine Jareth nodding his head once in acquiescence, his eyes downcast as he fiddled with whatever he was fiddling with that I _was not going to peek at._

"You've started to accept that the magic that happens around you is actually yours, and therefore yours to control, rather than random, ill-consequenced side effects. As you begin to grow more comfortable with this, you'll find that there are other things you can do as well." _Fiddle, fiddle, fiddle._

I thought about that for a moment, trying to concentrate less on the sounds he was making.

"Can I turn into an owl?" I asked. Jareth didn't laugh like I expected him to.

"Possibly. I doubt you'll take the same identity as me, however, but I won't rule it out." He paused. "I rather suspect you'll be a Heron. Possibly a Snowy Egret."

I pursed my lips, recalling the extensive plumage display of a Snowy Egret. "Is that a comment about the ball gown I wore?"

Jareth did laugh at that, the sound smooth and rolling and pleasant. I liked his laugh. When it wasn't cold or mocking, anyway.

"Perhaps," he replied, smiling with his voice. I frowned at him a little in reprimand but noticed he wasn't making those distracting noises anymore and was too relieved to be irritable.

Of course, now I wanted to peek and see what he'd done.

I sighed impatiently. "Jareth, the suspense is killing me," I complained. He chuckled again.

"Peace, Sarah mine. Don't think so much. _Feel._"

I grouched at him. "Who do you think you are, Mr. Miyagi?" I shifted restlessly. "Wax on, wax off. Breathe in, breathe out. Don't think, _feel." _

Warm, soft leather pressed itself to my lips, shushing me. The impulse to kiss his fingertips suddenly struck me, and I quickly stomped on it in surprise. _What the hell, hormones?_

The soft, not-dying rose brushed along my face again, and I tried to clear my mind and just concentrate on the sensation. It was surprisingly easy, particularly after Jareth started humming.

_There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes…_

Velvet slid across my skin, slow and gentle, almost teasing. Over my brow, delicate and soothing, down my cheeks, tracing the lines of my lips. My skin tingled as the petal skimmed over it, coming to life in a way I wasn't sure had ever happened before.

_I'll place the moon, within your heart…_

He moved along the edge of my jaw, his glove lightly grazing my skin, complementing the velvet petal. I tilted my head back as he reached my throat, sighing.

_I'll leave my love between the stars…_

He swept over my shoulders, too lightly, while he kept that tune in my head. I could feel his voice on my skin as perfectly as the flower, softer and warmer and just as tantalizing.

_I'll be there for you-ou-ou,_

As the world fell down

_Falling, falling down…_

His hands never stopped moving, but I felt him shift, felt the air he displaced on my skin and the heat he was radiating move, come closer. I could feel his breath over my cheek, feel the way his shirt brushed lightly against my dress. Something else, a series of faint shivers, passed over me, like a sensor that tracked his movements. I could feel it the strongest from his hands, lessening in intensity as it traveled up his arms and to his chest. I knew where he was, knew that he was using one arm to support his weight as he coated my skin in tingles, knew that his head was tilted toward my face, could practically _see_ his stance in my mind. Was it his magic I was feeling? Had it always been there, and I just hadn't noticed it?

"Tell me, Sarah. What do you feel?" he whispered.

"Warmth," I said, letting my instincts answer for me while my consciousness reveled in the vibrations emanating from Jareth's body. "Your hands, when they move." I sighed as the sensation neared my neck, nearly trembling now, as his lips skimmed over my pulse without touching. "A tingle," I added, bringing a hand up to outline his face, letting the little vibrations guide my fingers down his neck, along his shoulder, pausing when I reached a difference in the pattern. It thumped, and after a moment I realized it was his heartbeat I felt, without touching his chest.

He reached behind him, bringing whatever he had been cooking in front of my face and waving it slowly. "What do you smell?"

I took a breath, leaning toward him slightly as his fingers moved to the back of my neck, running along my spine.

"Something salty? And something roasty; mild, but pleasant… and something sweet? Strawberries, maybe…" I said, and frowned, shaking my head slightly. "No… figs."

Jareth made a small noise of approval. "Yes, figs," he murmured, and brought something else forward. I smiled a little as I inhaled.

"Wine. White, I think, and dry. Vanilla and wood smoke and lemongrass… and more figs?"

He brushed his fingers along my neck, grazing his lips against my ear. "Well done, precious thing," he said softly. "What else?"

I took another deep breath as he continued teasing my skin, brushing my own hands over his arms, tracing his fingers without touching them, enjoying the little shivery feeling. "Grass and evening dew, night jasmine," I continued, and noticed something familiar. "Lavender…"

I turned my head towards him, using that tingly feeling to gauge the distance, and inhaled the scent of his skin, the way he had when I'd blindfolded him.

"You," I said, smiling. I could feel the change in his lips as he smiled back.

"What do I smell like?"

"Midwinter and magic," I answered immediately. Jareth hummed thoughtfully.

"Now, what do you taste?" he asked, and brought the food back to my lips. I took the bite from his fingers, trying to identify what I had smelled.

"Chicken, and something earthy… mushrooms," I said, after I swallowed. "The salt… something like bacon, but not. And fig," I smiled. Jareth kissed the corner of my jaw in approval, humming again, and handed me the wine. I inhaled and took a sip.

"The fig again, and definitely a white wine," I said. "Lemon and sweet wood… and…" I arched an eyebrow at Jareth. "Peach?"

Jareth laughed softly, skimming his fingers over my shoulders. I realized with a small rush of heat that I was feeling his skin now, not his gloves, and felt my cheeks blush. He traced small whorl patterns over my arm as I tried to listen to him.

"Not actually peach, love. Just a combination of the fig and vanilla."

He continued to feed me small bites of food, keeping my wineglass full as I sipped at it, and always touching me in some way; barely kissing my jaw or cheek, brushing his lips over the shell of my ear, running his bare fingers over my arms and neck. His heat kept my right side warm as he sat next to me, never reaching so far that he broke contact with me. It was intimate, but surprisingly comfortable. I let my hands roam over him, always just a hair above touching.

I finished eating, and turned more toward him, setting down my glass to have both hands free. Slowly, I traced a hand over his shoulder, up his neck, pausing at his cheek. I was curious if the vibrations were _in_ his skin, as well, like an electrical current. He kept still and waited patiently, never ceasing his own hand's movement. I gently pressed my fingertips to his cheek, surprised when they didn't hum on contact. The vibration passed by the connection, surrounding him rather than originating _from_ him. I ignored the urge to press my lips to his skin and contented myself with exploring his face, sweeping along his brows, his aquiline nose, his parted lips. He kissed my fingers as I ran them over his mouth, acting on the impulse I hadn't. I realized I had leaned my face closer to him, intending to kiss him, and froze.

Jareth brought a hand to my face, gently touching my cheek, and pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth. I felt my heartbeat increase, waiting for him to move over my lips, holding my breath…

His fingers moved up, bringing the blindfold with them. I kept my eyes closed for a beat longer, almost disappointed when I felt him move back from me. I opened my eyes to see him watching me intently, holding his own wineglass. My eyes locked on his bare hands and my brain sort of shorted out.

A few moments later I realized that Jareth had said something, and I blinked, looking back up at his face. He looked amused, in a slightly arrogant way. I frowned and started to rewind my brain and process what he had said, but noticed something else that snagged my attention.

"You changed your hair."

Jareth took a noncommittal sip of wine. "I felt it may have been time for a change."

I frowned a little. "Oh." I considered the new look for a moment. It was shorter, less spiky; tamer. It looked… less Jareth.

I liked his old hair.

Shaking my head, I recalled his earlier words.

_Brought you here… for a truce meeting…_

"So, truce?"

Smiling at my lagging concentration, Jareth handed my newly filled glass of wine to me and nodded.

"I was hoping we could negotiate a cessation of hostilities against my Labyrinth," he agreed, nodding to the leftover food lying on a small plate. "I also suspected you hadn't had an adequate meal and brought dinner, though it is not typically part of the negotiation process."

I picked up another piece of the chicken stuff and nodded at him as I popped it in my mouth. "Totally appreciated. This is fantastic," I said, firmly ignoring my untimely arousal and the fact that it was blatantly obvious. He grinned and nodded again.

"Now then. What would be necessary for a retraction of my traitorous subjects, Sarah?" he asked, and though he said it tartly, his pose was still relaxed and friendly. I smirked.

"First, an apology," I said primly. He sighed.

"I suspected." He took a fortifying gulp of wine, and looked me in the eye.

"Sarah, I am sorry for reacting disproportionately. I should have been more informative in my explanation of your acquisition of your magic, and my temper seems to have gotten away with me over the past few days," he said, and I smiled at the sincerity of his tone.

"Accepted. And I'm sorry for mocking you," I replied. "It _was_ mean of you to call me a twit, though."

He frowned. "_You_ called my hair ridiculous and ostentatious," he objected.

"Which, actually, leads to my second condition. Change your hair back," I said firmly. He blinked.

"Pardon?"

"I like your old hair," I admitted. "I mean, sure, it's poofy, and kind of unnecessary… but it's _your_ hair, and I like it."

Jareth looked at me in mild bewilderment for a moment, but nodded. With a slight puff of glitter, his hair lengthened and fluffed, small highlights of silver weaving back into the strands, and I smiled.

"Much better."

Jareth gave me an amused look. "Anything else you'll require, princess?"

I gave him a level look, squaring my shoulders. I knew he wasn't going to like this last one. "All of the goblins must be allowed to keep the gifts I have already given them," I said. Jareth scowled.

"You realize that they are creating utter chaos with those 'gifts', I trust," he said unhappily. I gave him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, but, I owed it to them, and they've already been given. I can't take them back," I replied.

Jareth sighed, resorting back to his wineglass for comfort. "Yes, I heard about the 'royalties' business," he muttered. I finished the glass as he pondered for a moment, wondering what exactly it was, aside from my new favorite wine.

Glancing at me, Jareth leaned over and refilled both of our glasses. "Very well, Sarah, I will allow the goblins to keep what has already been given to them. However, as of now, whatever debt is owed to them is to be transferred to myself, as their liege, to be collected as I see fit," he conditioned. I gave him a skeptical look.

"Okay, but you realize I've been giving them kid stuff, I trust," I said, echoing his tone. He smirked.

"Collected as I see fit, precious thing," he reiterated. "Rather than toys, you will owe me your time."

I blinked. "Time? How am I supposed to put a value on _time?"_ I demanded.

Jareth rolled a wrist carelessly. "Call it a minute for every dollar you earn from your writings. That's fair, yes?"

I glowered at him for appearances sake, but… spending time with him didn't sound like such a horrible way to pay a debt. "My company does not mean my free will - Just because we're spending time together does not mean that you get to dictate how that time is spent," I clarified. Jareth looked slightly put out.

"Very well. A minute of your freely given companionship for every dollar you have earned due to I or my subjects," he agreed, and I held out my hand.

"Deal. I'll call off any lingering goblin attacks on the castle as soon as I get home," I said. Jareth took my hand and we shook, sealing the deal.

Snagging another chicken thing off the plate, I gestured vaguely. "So, what would you think about coming over and showing me how to make these things?" I asked. Jareth grinned.

"That could be arranged, I think," he said, and leaned forward, taking my chin in his hand-

And licked a smudge of food from the corner of my mouth.

We both froze, and I realized he had been acting purely on instinct as his eyes widened slightly. Sheer, concentrated _want_ shot straight through my stomach and settled between my legs, my skin humming as the tingly buzz of magic surged to the forefront of my awareness again.

I swallowed thickly, staring helplessly at his mouth, and tried to form a coherent thought.

"Uhm, I should… goblins…" I mumbled. Jareth blinked and came back to himself, slowly leaning back and releasing my chin.

"Yes… I'll…" he murmured and smiled oddly. "Until later, Sarah," he said, just a hint of self-satisfaction in his tone, and suddenly I was sitting on my living room floor, alone. I blinked.

"Whoa," I said to myself, and took a deep breath. "No more wine for you, hormones, until you learn some restraint," I admonished my libido and hauled myself up, gabbing the coffee table as the world spun a bit.

"Balance, wherefore art thou…" I muttered, wobbling my way to the bathroom and splashing some cold water on my face. I glanced in the mirror as I patted the water off, and blinked.

She was there again.

In the light filtering in from the living room, that unearthly, viciously beautiful creature I'd encountered a few days ago stared at me from my reflection, her eyes glinting with haughty amusement in the dimness and a sense of mischievousness lurking around her unsmiling mouth. I stood straighter, considering.

I looked like the Goblin Queen.

It may have been the wine, but the comparison did less to unsettle me this time. I tried out a few of Jareth's favorite looks, cocking an eyebrow, and smirking knowingly, peering coldly down my nose. They worked pretty well, actually.

I wondered if Jareth ever saw me this way.

Memories of earlier came spilling back, the feel of velvet and leather on my neck, his lips lightly kissing my jaw, his gloveless hands on my skin -

His tongue at the corner of my mouth.

My reflection smoldered at me, and I closed my eyes, leaning my head back and tying to imagine what his lips would feel like against mine, what he would taste like, how he would sound…

I ran a hand over my throat and made an involuntary noise of hunger. Why had I not just _kissed_ him?

A flash of that satisfied smirk of his, the arrogant way he watched me flounder in arousal over him served as a reminder.

Oh, right. He was a cocky bastard.

I sighed and opened my eyes. The reflection in the mirror surprised me again.

The creature's eyes were still hooded and bright with hunger, a hand resting delicately at her throat and accentuating her arched figure. She was undeniably feminine and sensual, but just as equally powerful and confident. I had trouble reconciling the image I saw with the image I knew, and was tempted to reach over and flick on the light, but… I smiled at my reflection.

I liked what I saw, now. And I would have bet Jareth would, too.

Oh, god.

What if Jareth saw me like this, so obviously wanting him? I blushed at myself as I stepped from my bathroom and realized my thighs were wet and slick.

I stopped for a moment, thinking. What exactly _would_ he do? Would he sneer at me? Mock me and cruelly run his fingers along my oversensitive skin, teasing but not relieving me? Would he be tender and sweet, the way he had been earlier when he was priming me for a negotiation meeting? Or would his bi-colored eyes glow with that hunger that made my stomach clench, and continue those movements downward, sliding over my stomach and down my hips, following the line of my dress to the hem and catching it on his fingertips, drag it back up to expose -

I whimpered and clamped my thighs together, forcing my thoughts to veer into less dangerously tempting territory. Jareth could _not_ see me like this. I knew what would happen. First, he would mock me, and then he'd tease me back into a state of feral heat, and in the morning my self-esteem would be nil. I knew the drill. It wasn't like I'd never been drunk and horny and dumb before. Hell, one time some college jerk had slipped a roofie into my -

I froze.

"No. You wouldn't," I snarled at his memory-self in that midnight meadow, dutifully keeping my glass full and hand-feeding me figs. "You wouldn't _dare_."

But the steady, pulsing heat between my legs and the trickle down my thigh said otherwise.

"_Jareth!_" I roared to my empty room. "Jareth, _Jareth,_ fucking self-righteous, smug King of the Bastards, _**Jareth!**_"

"No need to shout, precious thing. I heard you the first time." He was leaning against my closet, his royal ass acting like he had not a thing to fear, not a single sin on his sexy head.

I growled as menacingly as I could.

"You. Fucking. _**Bastard.**_"

Jareth looked amused.

"Something wrong, love?"

"You know damn well what's wrong! I can't _believe_ you'd stoop so low! Lower than low! A _king_ using frat boy methods to get me hot and then leave me cold the next morning? I thought you had more faith in your abilities, at least."

He looked slightly less amused now.

Unfortunately, my drugged, lust-fogged mind held little interest of what mood he was in, and was focused more on that enticing slice of smooth chest peeking through his shirt, and his long-fingered hands resting on his crossed arms, his skin gleaming pale in the moonlight from the window.

I realized with a shock that he still wasn't wearing gloves.

_Really came prepared, didn't you?_ I thought scathingly.

His bare fingers drummed on his sleeves, and I felt another ripple of lust run through my overheating body. Apparently, my nethers didn't particularly care that he was a conniving asshole, only that he was _hot_.

"You realize I have no idea what you are talking about, Sarah," he said, just a tad tersely. I closed my eyes briefly as my name in his voice slid over my skin and suppressed the shudder it wanted to induce. God, whatever he had drugged me with was _strong._

"Don't bother, Jareth. I know you laced my wine. I'm not an idiot, and just because I'm horny doesn't meant that I'm incapable of thought."

Jareth scoffed in annoyance. "I did nothing to your wine, Sarah. If you failed to notice, I drank from the same bottle you did."

"That doesn't mean you didn't line my glass or something. You had me freaking _blindfolded._ I _know _you, you're tricky," I objected. "And I know what this feels like, dammit."

Jareth's eyes glinted at me in the darkness.

"Oh, you do? Then please, _Sarah_," he said, and if his voice made me shudder before, his silk-and-sex laden tone fairly had me trembling. "Please enlighten me. How _does_ it feel?"

I would have glared at him, but the sight of him was making my teeth ache, so I closed my eyes instead and gritted my teeth over a moan that was trying to claw its way out.

"Go on, tell me, Sarah. How does it feel? Are you so hot your very blood is on fire?" He stepped forward, his booted footfalls muted and stealthy on my carpet. My skin was too hot, stretched too tight, my blood pounding too close to the surface in anticipation of his touch.

"_Where_ are you hot? Is your stomach burning? Lower?" I stifled a whimper. Oh god, yes, lower. _Give me your hand, I'll show you._

"Say it, Sarah. Are you wet? Has it run down your thighs?" I could feel his eyes on me, feel him watching me like a tangible caress, and I realized I had let my head fall back, my breathing so rapidly increased that I was nearly panting.

"Quit exploiting this, dammit," I growled, ignoring the breathy, pleading edge to my voice.

He was close enough for me to feel the heat from his skin, to once again be aware of that buzz of magic around him, and I concentrated on not whimpering again as I felt his long, naked fingertips skimming my shoulders.

"I did not drug you, Sarah," he murmured, his breath hot by my ear. I shuddered as his lips brushed against my earlobe, gasped as his tongue flicked out. "The wine was merely wine. However, wine in and of itself is an aphrodisiac, and I suppose if one were in a severe state of unsatisfied arousal, several glasses of wine in addition to the figs and physical stimulation may have an adverse effect. So, tell me, my Sarah," he nipped my ear, and I practically convulsed. "Are you unsatisfied?"

"Like that's even a valid question," I snipped. Unfortunately, something seemed to have shorted between my anger and my vocal cords, because it came out more like a hungry moan.

"Would you like me to satisfy you?" he asked.

I was intoxicated. Not totally wasted, or anything, but far from sober - and maybe if I had been, I would have said no. As it stands, I'm not even sure I actually said yes. I just sort of attacked him.

My mouth latched onto his, and I'm not sure which of us groaned, but our tongues buzzed together and I clawed him closer, hanging onto him as he moved and pressed me up against the wall. I gripped his shoulders and wrapped my legs around him, shimmying to his waist and locking my ankles underneath his pleasantly tight, leather-bound ass, while refusing to break contact with his lips.

Not bad, for being drunk and mindlessly horny.

He grabbed under my thighs pressed our hips closer, grinding against me. I cried out, the sound swallowed by his mouth and answered by a low growl of his own, as the hard, equally pleasant and leather-bound proof of his own unsatisfied arousal pressed between my legs, brushing that bundle of nerves that shot sparks off behind my eyes. Using my heels to urge him on, I voiced my approval and wriggled my hips against his.

A small shudder rippled through him, and as I flattened my hands on his back to feel the muscles moving under his skin, I suddenly realized why I hadn't wanted to kiss Jareth.

It wasn't because I was scared of him or his title. It wasn't because of what his status implied or what I feared would be relegated to. It wasn't because he needed to be taught a lesson in humility, or because he needed to apologize first, or because I didn't want to get glitter in my teeth, or any of the other idiotic reasons I had given myself.

I didn't want to kiss Jareth because I was afraid that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop.

And it seemed my fears were well founded.

* * *

She was gripping him as though the world would shatter if an inch of space came between them, and god help him, if she _moaned_ one more time like that -

He had to stop. Had to.

He managed to tear his lips away from hers, but they simply reattached themselves to her jaw line, and he settled for trailing down her lovely, decidedly tasty neck.

"You're drunk," he murmured between nibbles on her throat. She made a clearly intentioned '_So what?'_ noise that vibrated pleasantly against his lips, and he gently worried her flesh with his teeth, hoping to coax another moan out of her. She complied, and pressed her heels harder into his ass, grinding herself against his erection. He growled and just narrowly refrained from thrusting against her, settling for tightening his hold under her thighs and slowly inching her downwards.

"You'll hate me for this in the morning," he told her earlobe, grazing his teeth along the soft bit of skin. "We should stop."

She panted against his cheek, working her hands under his shirt. "No we shouldn't. Promise I won't hate you."

He groaned as she dragged her manicured nails down his back, and gave the shell of her ear a sharp nip of approval. She puffed out a small gasp and seized the hem of his shirt, pulling it impatiently upwards to bunch underneath his arms.

"Sarah, we really should wait until - "

She silenced him with a well-executed wiggle and pressed her lips back to his.

"Shut up," she said against his mouth, and tugged again on his shirt. "Off."

He obeyed, bracing her against the wall and lifting both his arms over his head, relishing in the sight of Sarah's eyes hungrily roving his chest. The effect was marred, however, by the slightly glassy quality to her gaze - evidence of her inebriation.

She bent to his neck and bit down on his rapidly beating pulse point, scattering his thoughts for a moment. He tried again as she started trailing kisses down his chest.

"At least for a few hours, ju-_hah_-" she closed her small, even teeth around his nipple, sending a jolt through him, and slipped a hand between them to wrap her fingers around the results of her ministrations.

There was really only so much a man could bear.

* * *

That had caught his attention.

He went extremely tense for a moment as I stroked and squeezed him through his pants, and I felt a brief moment of self-satisfaction that I had literally paralyzed the Goblin King with my touch.

It lasted until I dragged my nails along the hard length under the leather.

He gasped out a low _"Hah"_, a violent shudder nearly jarring my legs loose from his waist, and growled in a way that warmed my stomach. Though that may have been the wine talking.

I smirked, raising my head to lick at his thrumming pulse, and gasped as I was suddenly pulled away from the wall.

Clinging to Jareth's shoulders, I felt my eyes glowing as I watched the bed grow closer.

_Finally_.

Jareth pressed his lips to my shoulder, giving it a small bite. "You'll thank me for this later," he said.

And then tossed me on the bed and promptly vanished before I had even finished bouncing.

I blinked, staring at the space that used to host a Goblin King (with a woman wrapped around his waist), in mild confusion, before yelling in frustration.

"_What the hell!_" I screeched, pounding my fists against the duvet. "I was _finally_ giving in! Bog-_dammit!_ So _what_ if I'm drunk!"

I pummeled a nearby unfortunate pillow until my energy died down, if not my arousal, and collapsed back onto the covers.

"Now I'm _really_ gonna hate you in the morning."

* * *

Ziggy was ecstatic.

Lady Sarah, in return for his unfailing loyalty during the Epic Goblin Battle, had granted him The Plastik Dragon of Spraying Doom.

And it was fantastic.

Unfortunately, the colorful waterskin thingies on the sides must be full for the Dragon to shoot its watery doom-breath at unsuspecting foes, and when he went empty Ziggy had to run for his life (which was very dangerous, as he saw two of everything and it could be rather confusing when moving at high speeds), but after a stroke of genius during which he filled the Dragon's outside bellies with Bog Water, everyone kept a decent distance from him, regardless of whether or not he could shoot Watery Doom at them at that particular moment.

On another unfortunate note, everything in the Labyrinth smelled vaguely of Bog. It was a decidedly Not Fun smell.

However, it was still Very Fun to shoot everything that moved until it ran screaming from him, doused in boggy dampness. And as he was the only goblin with The Plastik Dragon of Spraying Doom, he could lord it over Dizz, who had been going _on_ and _on_ about being the Smartest Goblin Ever. Ziggy made absolutely sure to shoot him an especially lot whenever he was around.

He hoped Lady Sarah was having this much fun in her Tiny Castle, now that King had gone to visit. He would have gone to say Hi, but King had Decreed that You Bloody Smelly Vermin Are To Stay The Hell Away From Me, and after the Chicken Expulsion, it seemed like a good idea to do what he said. For a while, anyways.

* * *

**AN:** Hey, I never said it was out-of-the-ballpark smut. Just... smut-ish. Anyways.

I'm sure that most of you have figured out by now that I'm not exactly a fast updater. . I'm sorry for that, darlings, but alas, tigers and changing stripes and whatnot. I wanted to warn you not to get your hopes up this time around, because I'll be participating in the 2010 NaNoWriMo (with an original fiction), and therefore will pretty much only be writing on that for the entirety of November. (To any of my fellow literary masochists out there, I wish you luck!) Therefore, it is doubtful that anything will be posted on my site here until at least January. :( I'll miss you, darlings!

I adore hearing what you all think, and though I may not be writing on MA for a bit, your reviews always mean a lot to me!

**Skylinger:** Lol! "Dammit, Jeff, move your ass." :) Your review made me laugh.  
**Camcalli**: Yay! I keep getting that 'Sarah shouldn't be so mean to Jeff' comments, but… she would be, really. Glad you agree. :) Thanks!  
**Her Royal Goddess**: Wow, awesome imagery! Raging fire, indeed. Thanks for the review!  
**DaughterOfThe1King**: Thank you, darling!  
**Cybernetic Mango**: Lol! I cracked up at your comment. That was an awesome summary. My sides…  
**MyraValhallah**: Curse that Jeff… :) Thanks for the review!  
**CoffeeKris**: My dream come true! I've always wanted a horrible wretch of a child to irrationally hate me and reject my love. :D And lol! I promise, should anything happen to me, you'll have first dibs on chapter adoption.  
**Green-eyed-owl:** Aw, alas, no pranks on the date… Too bad, though - it probably would have livened it up a bit. :) I'm glad you enjoyed it so far!  
**Labyrinthloverxx**: :) Hope you enjoyed!  
**The Three March Hares**: Ack! Please don't die!  
**Freak-4-God**: I considered that, but… It really wouldn't have been fair to Sarah. Or anyone else for that matter, as I would have promptly spontaneously combusted at having to describe that, and the story would forever be unfinished. (…I swear that's not really going to happen, though!)  
**Nanenna**: Heh, sorry, love, no innate magic for Sarah this time around… :D Glad you enjoyed the Man Off! No more confrontation in this chapter, but fear not, there is more to come. Jeff, while currently discouraged, is after all male - and therefore irrationally stubborn. He'll be back for more…Thanks for the feedback!  
**LittleMargarita**: Glad I could make you laugh, darling. :) Thanks for the review!  
**Horcruxhorror**: I feel I should warn you that my definition of 'soon' is rather subjective, heh. Thanks for the review!  
**IvyBear**: Lol! Happy to please, darling. Hope you liked!  
**NotWritten**: :) Thank you, darling!  
**Sallafe **K: Lol 'Cause he's GAY. :D Hahaha! Loved the titles, by the way! I should let you name them.  
**InsanityFairy**: If ever you feel bad for Jeff, darling, simply remember that he can have any (other) girl he wants - and has broken his own fair share of hearts, has fabulous teeth, and a gorgeous car. And he's rich.  
…Feel a little better?  
**Ljuba**: :D Thank you, darling!  
**Simply01**: No crashing, but… he did it better. A nice compare-and-contrast is always good for a dig. :) Glad I kept you interested, darling!  
**Takissis**: Lol, Glad to hear it, darling. Hope you liked!  
**Mnleonard**: Aww, sorry to disappoint, darling! No sabotaging this time. Sarah agreed to the date, now she has to suffer through it…  
**Sarah Not Williams**: Egad! No! Anything but!  
**Lindzxhatter**: Lol Muscle cars make everything better. I'm a firm believer that all boo-boos can be fixed with an El Camino or two.  
**Tar Irene**: Ack, I know! I'm trying to get better (honestly), but I'm sort of an apostrophetical fiend. And don't feel bad - Grammar correction is never obnoxious if the person is unaware.  
**Surelady**: -Waves- hallo, darling! :D Glad you like! (Domino is my favorite, too! :) Little secret - he's actually the main character. Everyone else is just there for fluff.)  
**Foreverandtrulyyours**: :) Thank you, darling!  
**T****he Mub**: Well, it is hard to compete with Jareth. :) Thanks for the review!  
**MichArela**: Lol not quite, apparently. The UST hangs on just a bit longer…  
**Yasu Uchiha**: Lol apologies, darling. Mmm, sounds gorgeous! Love Mustangs. Glad you enjoyed!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **You know what? This isn't going to bring me down today. I do _not_ own Labyrinth, but that is _okay_, because I have coffee and bunny slippers and fabulous hair.

**Also:** Thanks a bloody billion and a half to my awesome, fantabulous beta **Corky Conlon-Cook** because she is wise and patient and wise and very, very patient. And pretty.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Twelve**

Christ, was this turning out to be a rotten night.

Jeff drove at speeds that would make Sarah proud - not that he particularly cared what she thought, and he certainly wasn't driving recklessly to earn her approval, god knew, but -

"Shut _up_, you stupid brain," he commanded the wayward organ, wishing he could just stop being a sappy idiot long enough to form a coherent thought that didn't revolve around that infuriating woman _that-he-was-not-going-to-think-about-dammit._

He flew past a neon-lit, well-populated club, the kind that seemed to birth leather-clad rock stars, and involuntarily wondered if she had called that tight-trousered ice block over yet. Not that it mattered to him either way, but just out of morbid curiosity…

Jeff sighed. This was hopeless.

Something darted across the road immediately in front of Jeff, and he squeaked, slamming on the brakes and jerking the wheel instinctively. The Challenger held gamely to the road, but the maneuver was beyond her capabilities and the back end lost purchase. Driving training kicked in as the brakes squealed and the tires pealed, and he recovered control of the fishtailing car before he wound up Jeff-flavored hamburger on a stretch of blacktop. His hands shook in their white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel while his heart decided it had quite nearly had enough of this nonsense and contemplated retirement, and he guided the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road to regain his composure.

What had _that_ been? If he didn't know better (and he did), he would have sworn it was a furry little person with orange horns and a large, fluffy rabbit tail. Which was just ridiculous. What did he think he'd almost killed, a jackalope? Absurd. Those only lived in the southwest. _And_ they were mythological.

Rubbing his eyes, Jeff chastised himself. He was acting like a petulant teenager, speeding around angrily and poutily denying that he even cared about being utterly rejected by his date, and the trauma plus the wine he'd had at dinner was clearly affecting his judgment. Sighing, he put the car back in gear and eased onto the road. He needed a distraction from Sarah, something to remind him that she was, in fact, _not_ the center of his universe.

Glancing in his rearview, he saw that a pair of orange horns attached to a large set of bobbly eyes had taken up residence in his backseat.

Jeff screamed.

* * *

Denise jerked open her front door to stop the incessant pounding on it and glared at the disheveled, but unfortunately still yummy, man taking up her threshold.

"If I don't answer after the third knock, it means 'go away', not 'bang louder'," she said flatly. Jeff ran a hand through his hair roughly, which explained why it looked as though a small furry creature had attempted to nest in it, and tried on one of his charming grins. It looked vaguely maniacal.

Denise frowned. "Jesus, what happened?" Jeff looked for a moment as though he couldn't decide whether to cry or laugh and eventually decided on burying his face in his hands and doing a combination of the two.

"I had a really, _really_ bad night," he confessed. Denise rolled her eyes, but backed up to let him in. Apparently the slinky little brunette on his arm hadn't panned out. She tried not to be giddy.

"Yeah, well, mine wasn't exactly peachy, either, you know," she said shortly, locking the door back up behind him. Her thumb had barely left the turn-latch when Jeff let out a decidedly unmanly squeal and toppled loudly into the vase of flowers on her small foyer table. She spun around, gaping at the watery mess.

"Did you see that? _Please_ tell me you saw that!" Jeff begged, pointing in the direction of the destroyed decorations.

Denise scowled at him. "Did I see you drunkenly stumble into my flowers? No, I didn't, and I really-"

"_It's behind you!"_ he shrieked, seizing her and roughly pulling her to him, shielding her from the non-existent threat with his turned body. Denise leaned around him, trying to see what he was freaking out about.

There was nothing. At all.

"Oh, thank god I have this big, strong man to save me from my vicious doormat. It's been plotting to kill me for days, the fiend," she deadpanned, extracting herself from his protective clutches. She tiptoed her slippered way carefully through the mess of shattered ceramic, leaving Jeff gaping at the empty shadows in her foyer.

"But, I _swear, _there was this… thing…"

"Mmhmm. Tell me, was the thing small, green, and fluttering around?"

"What? No, it looked like a jackalope… but oranger," he muttered, and slanted her a glance. "And I haven't been drinking absinth."

"But you _have _been drinking." Denise grabbed her mop, broom and dustbin and returned to the poor, hallucinating man. "And I don't think it's necessary to classify color differences in made-up creatures."

Jeff did that sobby-laugh thing again, and she felt just a little bit bad for ragging on him.

"I know, this sounds crazy, and maybe I am… I just… Keep _seeing_ things."

Denise sighed softly, setting her cleaning supplies down for a minute, and grabbed Jeff by the chin. Turning his head firmly toward her, she clinically examined his eyes and pressed a wrist to his forehead.

"Jeff, you aren't crazy," she said matter-of-factly. His expression lifted a little. "Your pupils are the size of quarters, you're flushed, and you reek of alcohol. You got drunk, hallucinated something, and then your adrenaline kicked in and made matters worse," she theorized. "Now, go sit on the couch while I clean this up and try not to kill anything else," she instructed. Jeff cast an apologetic glance at her ruined flower vase.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry about those," he said meekly. It really was unfortunate that he was so absolutely delicious - it made being angry with him nearly impossible. Not to mention that he knew all her little buttons and just how to undo them… Alas.

She shrugged.

"You paid for them anyways. It's no sweat off my back," she replied, ushering him out of her way. He frowned.

"I made that check out to the fruit and chocolate bouquet place…" he objected. She grinned slyly at him.

"I didn't feel like chocolate. And people are willing to make all sorts of special exceptions if you pay them enough."

Jeff paled a little. He looked worried for his bank account; she could practically see the formula running through his brain: _Slightly vindictive ex + blank check = Bad Idea._

Sighing, he slumped onto her sofa. "I should have known better than to give a blank check to a ginger," he mumbled. Denise hid a grin and cast him a look over her shoulder. It was lucky he'd never been able to tell when she was playing him…

"Are you saying I wasn't worth it?" she asked icily. His eyes nearly popped out of his gorgeous head. _Open mouth, insert foot, and chew heartily._

"No! Of course you are! I just-"

"No, no, I understand. I'm worthy only of what you wish to dole out - concept grasped, I assure you," she snarked. Jeff looked as though he were contemplating eating his entire damned leg.

"Denise, no, it's not like that-"

"Or am I just supposed to pine over you and be satisfied with the little winks and grins you throw my way when you need something? Just be glad I warranted your attention and jump through whatever hoops you wish?"

The instinct to flee at all costs had begun to set in. Jeff eyed the distance to the door warily.

"Uhm, I didn't mean-" he flinched a little as she picked up the dustbin and started towards him.

"You know Jeff, you really haven't changed much," she said and sashayed past him to the kitchen to dispose of the decorative remains. "You still look adorable when you panic."

His disbelieving sputters carried into the kitchen, and Denise laughed. It was _so_ nice to get one up on him every now and again. And if he was going to show up at her place, drunk and rejected, on Valentine's Day and just _assume_ that she'd be alone and willing to let him in, then he deserved a few gut shots. Never mind that she _was_ alone and willing to let him in. It was just the principal of the thing.

Replacing her cleaning supplies in her pantry, she smirked at the silence. Apparently he'd run out of offended noises to make.

"Oh, come on, Jeff, you can't-"

The pantry door shut in front of her and a pair of strong, well-experienced, able hands came up on either side at shoulder height. Blinking, she registered the feeling of a warm body at her back and soft breathing by her ear.

"You know, Denise, that almost sounded like you were _provoking _me," Jeff murmured, his already pleasantly masculine voice delightfully husky. He nuzzled against her neck, and Denise shivered helplessly as he nibbled her earlobe. She had always been a sucker for ear nibbling. "You know what that does to me…"

She forced a laugh. "Yeah, you either pout or try and peacock defiantly to prove me wrong," she said with as much scathing indifference as she could manage while pressed back against him and obviously melting at his touch. It was actually surprisingly convincing. "I'm guessing peacocking this time."

"Are you saying you don't _enjoy_ my 'peacocking' ?" he asked, clearly amused, as he stepped closer to her, pinning her against the pantry door. He skimmed a few kisses down the side of her neck, using her known weaknesses against her. She swallowed a little whimper as his teeth grazed her shoulder.

"On the contrary, idiotic male behavior is _such_ a turn-on," she retorted, and tried really, _really_ hard not to moan as he turned his teeth on her other ear.

"You know, I don't think you're lying," he chuckled, and started to move a hand to her neck -

And accidentally clocked her on the jaw as he yelped and jumped away, careening into her kitchen table and toppling backwards over a chair.

Rubbing her sore face, Denise stomped over and glared down at the scrambling puddle of unfortunately sexy man and mentally kicked herself for nearly succumbing to his drunken charms.

"Jesus, something _bit_ me-"

"Jeff, _nothing bit you._ You are drunk. Now, get off my floor and quit being so irritatingly destructive or I'm kicking you out, debilitatingly inebriated or no," she snapped, and roughly pulled him to his feet. He gestured helplessly toward her pantry door and she felt a flash of irritation directed as much at him as it was at herself - she hated that he'd nearly blown down her defenses with little more than a couple nibbles and hated that she would have _let_ him had he not suddenly reminded her that he was severely intoxicated due to the rejection of another woman.

"But - I -"

"But nothing, Jeff. Go stretch out on the couch and I'll bring you a blanket," she said firmly. "We can talk about this when you're sober."

"But Denise, I-"

"_Jeff!"_ She yelled, closing her eyes and clenching her fists. "I am _not_ your rebound girl! You cannot just pop over here, _drunk_, and expect me to comfort you because some other woman had the common sense to tell you no! Now shut up and take what I'm offering you or get out!"

Denise stood there a moment more, refusing to look at him, and waited for him to wrap her up in an embrace and charm her right back into his spell like he always had.

Jeff sighed. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Denise's eyes snapped open.

"It was rude of me to act the way I did. I'm sorry if I offended you, Denise," he said and gave her a small, apologetic smile. "I'll gladly take your couch."

After a few blinks, her brain rebooted and she lifted her chin, brushing past him to unfold the pull out and grab some blankets. "Damn right, you will," she said, trying to sound like she wasn't shocked he was actually doing what she asked.

Jeff helped fix his temporary bed, his movements surprisingly smooth and coordinated for someone drunk enough to repeatedly hallucinate, and snuggled down with nary a suggestive finger. Denise was… kind of impressed, actually. This was a tad out of character for the charming, irresistible, fabulously ab-tastic Jeff Garner.

She cast him one last glance as he wished her goodnight, and pursed her lips. Maybe he _had_ changed…

* * *

Madness did not begin to describe the state of the Goblin King's realm at present.

Mayhem abounded in every corner of his kingdom, utter chaos thrived in the streets and rampaged through the Goblin City, destroying order, structure, and any of their relatives (including distant cousins) with extreme prejudice. The outer wall was barely visible under the coating of silly string, the oubliettes were full of terrified fireys attempting to hide from the gobliny festivities (which was more of an indicator of the severity of the situation than any other sign), and the hedge maze had voluntarily relocated itself to the Bog of Eternal Stench in hopes of avoiding the worst of the attacks.

And then there was the matter of his throne room…

Jareth had perched himself upon the highest ledge, as far away from the unspeakable horrors below as he could manage, to attempt to restore order to his castle. He bogged another dozen or so goblins, watching as an equal amount slogged boggily back into his throne room, and wished quite desperately for an Advil.

Despite his efforts, things were only getting worse. Goblins were naturally wild, destructive creatures - Jareth's strict rule and insistence upon civilization had been the only thing keeping them from tearing his kingdom apart long ago, and with Sarah's damned 'game' directly contradicting his authority, the goblins were reverting back to their instinctive habits.

In short, he was doomed without Sarah's help.

A disgustingly loud clanging nearly knocked the king from his perch as a group of his subjects began using the cord of the iron alarm bell as a rope swing, sending a nauseating shock of pain through his splitting head. It was immediately bogged, along with it's operators and anything nearby that may have gotten any similar ideas.

With a heavy feeling of dread settling in his stomach, the goblin monarch heaved a sigh and resigned himself to the only open course of action.

The time had come to swallow his pride.

* * *

I pressed my forehead against my computer screen, willing the words on the display to change themselves to something that A). made sense, and/or B). wouldn't get me kicked out of my apartment.

Sadly, my psychic powers were decidedly ineffective. The only thing I accomplished was leaving a rather impressive smudge in the middle of the document telling me exactly why I was royally screwed.

It made me feel a little better to not be able to read the words.

Thursday morning, when I had awoken from my ill-rested, naughty-dreamed slumber, I'd realized that the posturing of a certain testosterone-saturated, bulgy-veined, bear-like neighbor would come to fruition in a mere five days, and I had done nothing by the way of making sure I didn't become homeless in the very near future. The situation trumped even my severe irritation with the tight-panted wonder who shall not be named, with his stupid bare hands and his stupid jaw line and stupid lips and other tasty body parts. Stupid man.

Therefore, the last four days had been a rush of mad researching, with headaches aplenty and enough coffee to kill an elephant. It hadn't been terribly enjoyable.

Mister Puppy had spent most of his time lingering around by my feet, occasionally projecting an '_I told you so'_ attitude whenever I went on a rant about King Sparkly The Nameless, and making sure that whatever apartment-losing goblins popped in didn't stay long. The record length had been eight minutes, and that was only because he had poofed into existence in my toilet and had taken some effort to extract.

Stupid goblins.

Also, after my little kiss-me-not fiasco with my boss/admirer/car loaner, I was sort of stranded, which promised to make getting to the court house tomorrow morning by ten o'clock something of an event. I quite frankly had no idea who had my car, and what had happened to it, or if it was even still in one piece. I _hoped_ she was sitting in a lot somewhere, awaiting rescue, but suspected she may have long since been chopped up for spare parts. Which I may have been able to handle, but the _not knowing_ was just horrible… I needed closure.

Unfortunately, that meant calling Jeff, and that was rather more than my sensibilities were prepared to handle.

I groaned. "How do you do it, Sarah?" I asked myself. "Do you _work_ at getting into these situations? Do you _try_?"

"Well, you certainly have become proficient at it."

I squeaked, jumping in my seat and nearly spilling myself onto the floor, and whirled in my chair to glare at the intruder.

Domino slowly rose to his feet, malice and _serious_ displeasure radiating from every spot on his furry little body, and growled at Jareth.

"Yeah, what he said," I agreed. Jareth looked mildly worried that I wouldn't be holding my puppy in check this time.

"Sarah, we need to talk," he said placatingly, eyeing my ferocious companion warily. I reached down and patted the only trustworthy man in my life.

"So talk." I suppressed a little grin at how mobsterly I sounded - this was probably the closest I had ever been to the Sopranos. It was a shame I couldn't have had _this_ captured on camera, rather than me embarrassing myself in front of a store full of soccer moms…

He frowned. "I really think this conversation would be more appropriately held without me under the threat of mutilation," he reasoned. I rolled my eyes.

"Fine. Go on, puppy; I'll be alright," I told Domino, who cast me an unhappy glance before making his way to my bedroom, where he sat right inside the door and continued to watch Jareth with murder in his little doggy eyes. Jareth's cheek twitched.

"I suppose actual privacy is out of the question," he said tightly. I sighed impatiently and hauled myself up, walking to my kitchen.

"This is as good as it gets. Stand by the fridge and he won't be able to see you," I said and rustled in my pantry for something to keep my hands busy - I didn't quite trust myself to keep looking at Jareth without either stabbing or kissing him. Also, I couldn't quite be sure if I had eaten today, or yesterday for that matter, due to stress and figured that it was probably a good idea to eat something before my stomach and my shunned hormones ganged up, staged a mutiny, and decided to devour Jareth in substitution for actual nutrition.

Ahah. _Ravioli to the rescue._

"What exactly did you need to talk to me about, Your Highness?" I asked sharply, busying myself with the pretense of food. He sighed.

"Sarah, please be reasonable," he pleaded. "My Labyrinth is in utter chaos. It's practically a civil war."

"Sounds like a monarchy problem to me," I said carelessly. I could see him tense out of the corner of my eye.

"Half of my subjects are under unretracted orders from _you_. This is the monarchy attempting to _fix _the problem."

I scoffed. "How is it my fault or responsibility if you can't control your own subjects?"

"We had a _deal_, Sarah," Jareth snarled. I looked at him in feigned innocence.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I lead you to believe I was going to do something, and then leave you hanging?" I added a little false remorse to my expression. "How cruel of me."

Jareth clenched his eyes shut, obviously holding his control in a tenuous grip. "I was _trying_ to do the right thing," he said tersely. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, come off it, Jareth; I was _drunk_, not suddenly possessed by a hooker. I'd had a little too much to drink and a lot too much teasing and innuendo, and my inhibitions were seriously lowered - but it didn't mean I was trying to do something I didn't actually _want_ to," I snapped. "You can't just poof in here, intending to rile me up, and then _leave_ and not expect me to get mad about it!"

Jareth spluttered for a moment. "That was _hardly_ my intention!" he gestured wildly at my bedroom, hair fluffing furiously and eyes widening with incredulity.

It was actually kind of funny looking. Were I less angry, I may have even called it _cute_.

"If you'll recall, _precious_, it was _you_ who summoned me back here, _after_ you came to the false assumption that I had given you some sort of sexual stimulation drug in order to ravish you against your will, and now you're angry with me for proving you wrong?" he demanded.

"No! I'm mad at you because you assumed that I was too stupid or too awed by your attention to know what I wanted! Being intoxicated doesn't make you do things that you don't want to, it just gives you the courage to do what you wouldn't normally have the guts to!" I slammed my fist down angrily, rattling the cooking ravioli on the stove. "I've_ wanted_ to sleep with you since you popped back in here looking like sex on legs, and I _finally_ had the courage to act on it, and then you went all noble and pretended I was some silly little damsel who didn't know what her silly little heart wanted. When have I ever led you to believe that I wanted some noble hero?"

Jareth blinked at me for a moment, apparently blindsided by my verbal revelation of what we both already knew. I supposed it was possible I was going to regret actually _telling_ him that when I was less murderously furious, but at the moment, I was tired of all the prancing around.

He narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You mean to tell me that, had I _not_ done the 'noble' thing, you would _not_ have been just as angry with me in the morning?"

"Exactly!" I said. Jareth gave me an arch look. "Well, maybe," I amended. He continued to watch me doubtfully. "Alright, fine, I would have still been kind of peeved at you. If you _really_ had wanted to be noble, the right thing to do would have been to knock me unconscious and deal with me in the morning," I relented. He cocked an eyebrow.

"I somehow doubt that would have been received any better. I'm actually not seeing _any_ palatable courses of action for that particular situation," he remarked.

"Well, maybe if you didn't turn me into hot-blooded mush all the time, I wouldn't be so unreasonable," I snapped. Jareth grinned, and I felt a sharp stab of chagrin - why must my mouth spew all the stupidity in my head? Shouldn't there be some sort of filter? Clearly mine needed to be replaced.

Jareth leaned casually against my pantry door, all lean legs and predatory grace, grinning in a distinctly self-satisfied manner.

"How am I at fault if you find me irresistible, Sarah mine?" he purred. I scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I fail to see what could possibly be described as 'ridiculous' at present," Jareth said. I rolled my eyes at him.

"What's ridiculous? Your pants are, that's what," I snarked. He smirked in that unsettling manner of his and slid toward me, bringing to mind the image of a crocodile gliding smoothly toward his prey (_with gently smiling jaws_).

"Would you prefer I remove them, precious thing?" he purred. "You stopped scrying before I managed to, last time. Such a pity." His hand brushed over my jaw, trailing light veins of heat down the line of my throat as he leaned in close, our cheeks nearly touching, and that tingly sensation he'd awakened danced along behind his touch. I could feel his breath on my ear, the _thud_ of his heart, the nearness of him, as I tilted my head and tried not to become the aforementioned puddle of hot-blooded mush. "Let me mend this…"

My eyes snapped open and I batted his hand away, spinning around and concentrating on my ravioli. "No! There will be _no pants removal_ in my kitchen," I said firmly, trying to squish the equal parts of panic and desperate hopefulness that had sprung up at that idea.

"Then let's move to your living room. I'm more partial to your sofa than countertops anyways," he smirked, sliding his hands around my waist. My hormones hijacked my motor controls for a moment and pressed back against his chest without my consent, but the feeling was so nice that I allowed them a moment to cheer in victory before giving the wheel back to common sense and survival instinct - which, as common sense pointed out from her disgraced position tied up in the corner, was a spectacularly bad idea.

In the brief moment that I stayed perfectly still, reveling in the sensation of his lean, firm chest against my back and his long-fingered hands at my waist, the memory of being wrapped up in his arms in that midnight meadow, feeling warm and safe and loved, barged on into my brain and teamed up with the memory of his erection hard against my inner thigh as I bit down on his neck, and staged a hostile takeover.

The blasted hormones tripled in size and joined with each other to become a randy conglomerate, like a Power Ranger Megazord with a serious grudge against pants, existing with the sole purpose of getting one (or possibly both) of us naked. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and arched into his hands as they skimmed down over my hips, tingling in a decidedly pleasant way, and I moaned a little as I anticipated what his tingly fingertips would feel like pressed against my-

The phone ringing startled me so badly that I nearly yelled. And then I realized that I had nearly succumbed to my more primal urges, _again,_ while I was mad at Jareth, and that he was never going to apologize if I kept purring like a kitten whenever he touched me.

"Phone!" I exclaimed, pulling myself out of his embrace and lunging for my saving grace. Jareth looked decidedly unhappy about this and took a step towards me. I held up a firm hand.

"Don't touch me or I'm going to beat you with my spatula," I warned and picked up. Jareth folded his arms grouchily and leaned his sexy, perfectly defined hip against the counter. I narrowly avoided a brain function lapse.

"Hello?" I said hastily, turning away and just barely keeping the attractive monarch in my peripherals.

"Sarah? It's Jeff."

I blinked, a little knot forming in my stomach. _Please let my car be okay, please let my car be okay…_

"Ah, hey, Jeff," I greeted hesitantly. I saw Jareth tense out of the corner of my eye as Jeff sighed on the other end.

"Listen, there's a lot I should say and a lot I shouldn't say, and instead of some big, long, drawn-out affair, I'm just going to say that I'm sorry, and if you can put all this behind you, so can I," he said. I grimaced - that sounded suspiciously like a new start to a romantic relationship to me. Luckily, I was saved the moral dilemma of making a decision due to the fact that I really had no choice in the matter. He had my car hostage, dammit.

"Well, sure, Jeff. What are employees for?" I joked half-heartedly. Jeff acknowledged my attempts with a small chuckle.

"I talked to the guys at the garage, and they said that they took the entire thing apart-"

My stomach dropped as I envisioned my poor little baby chopped up and sold off piecemeal-

"-but couldn't find anything wrong with it. They've got it ready for you now," he said, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"That is the best news I've heard all week," I grinned.

Jeff laughed. "There should be someone swinging by later today to drop it off-"

He said something else, but there were suddenly lips wrapped around my other ear, and the sensation was decidedly non-conducive to higher brain function.

Teeth lightly skimmed along my earlobe, and I shuddered a little, letting out a noise that was discouragingly similar to a breathy moan.

"Sarah?" Jeff's voice sounded in the ear still pressed to the telephone, and I started, a violent blush sweeping through me. I shoved Jareth away, squinching my shoulders up to cover my ears and shooting him a glare over my shoulder. He just licked his lips, eyeing me with mischievous delight.

"Sorry, I'm just so happy at the prospect of having my own car again. I was terrified she may have been hacked and dismembered and black marketed or something," I said, hastily turning back away from His Randiness.

"Oh! I guess I should have told you where I'd had it taken. Sorry," he said guiltily.

"Oh, no problem, it's fi-_ahine!"_ Raising my shoulders had bared a small strip of skin at my waist, and Jareth had knelt down and attached his tongue to it. Reaching around, I shoved on his shoulder to dislodge him, but he simply wrapped his arms around either of my thighs and braced himself. Apparently he didn't mind falling, so long as he took me with him.

"Uhm, well, if you're sure…" Jeff said, obviously confused. Oh, god, he must think I was a lunatic.

The hands on my thighs moved perilously high, and the waistband of my pajama pants started slowly sliding down, revealing my lime green undies. Panicking, I bumped my butt back at Jareth's face, hoping to dislodge him.

"It's really -" I shrieked as his teeth nipped at me.

"Thanks for everything; my ravioli is burning; I've got to go!" I rushed and hung up, twisting around to swat at my attacker.

"What the hell is the matter with you? Since when does 'don't touch me or I'll beat you' translate into 'please bite my butt'?" I demanded.

Jareth pretended to look innocent, which seemed a tad insincere, considering he was kneeling behind me with his hands wound possessively around my inner thighs.

"Well, you proffered it to me so nicely, I thought that was what you wanted," he said, and a tiny smirk pulled at his lips. "Is there something else you'd like me to bite?"

I growled. "Yeah, your _tongue._ Now get _off_ me, my ravioli really is burning," I ordered and tried to wriggle my way out of his hold. He tightened his hands, brushing his fingers upwards, and I froze as that tingle I had briefly fantasized about came way too close to becoming a reality.

Jareth's eyes sparkled merrily. "Say your right words, Sarah."

I narrowed my own eyes, looking as murderous as I could manage. "Imminent. Castration."

Laughing, Jareth released me and rose back to his feet, following close behind as I rescued my lunch. I barely had time to turn off the stove and move the pot before he plastered himself back against me.

His hands splayed out against my stomach, the warmth and tingles melding with the flutters in my tummy and the low heat starting to rise, and ran his lips along my neck. He pressed his hips flush against mine, and I felt that blush rising back up at his obvious arousal.

"Jareth," I said warningly, but somehow on the way to my vocal cords 'warning' had gotten mixed up with 'low pleading', and the desired effect was completely lost.

He groaned softly against my neck and raised his mouth to my ear. "Say my name like that again and I'll do anything you wish," he said, and my breath caught at the _need_, the bone-deep _want _for me, the sort of _hunger_ that made my knees forget to hold me up, that edged his voice.

I leaned my head back and raised my arm, pulling his face to mine, and kissed him.

Jareth growled deep in his throat and clutched me hard against him, his fingers curling into my hips as his skin hummed against mine. His heart was racing, beating just as fast as my own, and I briefly wondered if he could feel _my_ heartbeat like this.

I loved the way he tasted, something familiar and foreign at the same time, like a memory I didn't remember having, and I tangled my fingers in his hair, trying to pull him closer, trying to get _more_ of him.

His low, hungry growl buzzed against my lips again and he pushed us forward, pinning me against the stove -

Jareth yelped, breaking away from me and shaking his hand. I blinked in confusion as he glared first at his finger, and then at the hot eye where my forgotten ravioli had been, before my brain kicked back in and I realized he had burned himself.

"Well, that's what you get for trying to seduce me next to a hot stove," I said breathlessly. He growled and inspected his finger.

"I was not _trying_ to seduce you, Sarah; I _was_ seducing you. There is a distinct difference," he snapped, and stuck his finger in his mouth, resorting to the instinctive 'suckle-it-better' approach. I rolled my eyes and turned around.

"Here, let me see," I said, pulling his hand free of his lips and inspecting it for myself. It was red, but not blistering or white around the edges. Probably painful, but it would fade in a few hours. "And besides, I'm in the middle of cooking. There are better times for attempted seductions," I told him absently.

"I was not _attempting!_ Your little friend _Jeff_ was _attempting_, poorly, I might add. I, however, am quite proficient at this sort of thing. _I_ was _succeeding._"

My eyes shot to his face, mildly outraged and slightly shocked, and I felt my jaw trying to drop.

"I don't believe it," I said. Jareth cast me a dark look.

"Trust me, darling, in a few more minutes, you'd have been putty-"

"No, no - that's not what I meant." _Though, it's entirely true._ "You're _jealous_ of Jeff, aren't you?"

Jareth's eyes narrowed, but he gave no response.

I laughed incredulously.

"I can't believe that actually worked! What do _you_ have to be jealous of Jeff over?" I demanded disbelievingly. He had seemed _utterly _unimpressed by Jeff when I had staged their meeting and certainly not threatened in any way.

"I mean, you're a _King_, for one, and he just owns a publishing firm. And you can't be jealous of his looks - you're so conceited you make Narcissus look self-conscious. You're not even _human_," I protested. Jareth never changed his wary, displeased expression.

"It was not his status, appearance, or species I was jealous of, princess," he said tersely. I threw my hands up.

"Then what? It was pretty obvious I wasn't interested in him. Was it the air he was breathing? The space he took up? The…" I trialed off, several things suddenly clicking into place - like how Jareth had started trying to win back my attention as soon as he found out it was Jeff on the phone, and how he had shown up almost _immediately_ after I returned from my date and had taken twice as long with _his_ romantic dinner, and even our bargain itself…

"You're jealous of the _time_ I'm spending with him?" I realized. Jareth huffed.

"Well, he does seem to use up quite a lot of it," he snapped. I rolled my eyes.

"He does not. I've spent just as much time, if not _more_, with you. And anyway, half the time I _was_ with him I was thinking about y-"

I clamped my mouth closed, my teeth clacking together, and wished that stupid filter between my mind and my mouth would function properly.

Jareth positively preened, beaming at me. I scoffed and pushed him away, grabbing my ravioli and a spoon and eating straight out of the pot.

"You already knew I was thinking about you on my date anyways, what with that whole wineglass thing," I said around a mouthful of slightly burned, noodley goodness, waving my spoon for emphasis.

"Hearing you _say_ it is another thing entirely, precious thing," he argued, sliding back over to me and brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers traced the shell of my ear, a surprisingly tender gesture, and he softly placed a chaste kiss on my shoulder.

I turned, giving him a cautious look, and was surprised at the depth of emotion on his face. There were things there that I could name if I wanted, but I was a little frightened to - I wasn't sure I felt the same, and if I did, I wasn't sure I was actually ready for that. Hell, I'd just seen him for the first time in a _decade_ a few weeks ago, and I was on the verge of losing my apartment -

And suddenly my boobs were on fire, and I realized that I had dripped hot ravioli sauce all down my front.

Swearing, I dropped the pot back on the stove and pulled my shirt away from my skin, fanning at it and trying to beat down the embarrassment that was threatening to turn my skin the same color my shirt now was.

Laughing, Jareth shooed my hand way and tugged on the neckline, pulling it up over my head before I registered what the hell he was doing.

"Take it _off_, you silly thing. Waving at it won't help," he chastised fondly and tossed the shirt on the counter while I gaped at him.

Grabbing a dish towel hanging over the oven handle, he ran it under cold water and pressed it to my reddened chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. I couldn't help but just stand there and blink - it was such a familiar act, so second nature, that I didn't feel the least bit embarrassed or uncomfortable to be standing shirtless in front of King Sexypants himself.

And if _that_ didn't pave the way for a revelation, I was dimmer than Jeff.

I reached out, grabbing the front of Jareth's shirt, and pulled him into a desperate kiss. Who the hell _cared _if he hadn't apologized yet, or if my minions were still destroying his castle, or if I was going to be homeless this time tomorrow? I wanted Jareth, _had _wanted for some time, and was _going_ to have him, _now._

"Sarah-" he mumbled, his words smushed against my lips, and tried to separate himself from me. I ignored his efforts and pressed myself against him, sliding my thigh against his still-semi-hard erection.

"Shut up," I commanded.

And he did.

Without warning, Jareth unleashed himself on me, clutching me tightly to him as though trying to melt us together, and the soft, tingly aura of magic that surrounded his skin became a full-blown, humming buzz. It was like static electricity had suddenly upgraded to live wires, and I gasped at the sudden change. He thrust his tongue into my mouth at the opportunity and we stumbled back into the counter, trying desperately to climb into one another. I boosted myself up and wrapped my legs around his waist, unhesitantly grinding against him, and moaned happily as that electric pulse throbbed between my legs.

We kissed and nipped at each other, grabbing and clutching at every bit of the other we could reach, twining our fingers in hair and tugging at lips with our teeth. I sharply yanked Jareth's shirt from his pants, not caring a bit as I heard several stitches popping, and helped him pull it off, eager for more of his skin against mine. He jerked sharply on my bra clasp, probably bending the metal, and I impatiently wriggled out of it and pressed myself to his bare chest. Our heartbeats buzzed against one another, each perfectly timed to offset the others.

"Do you feel this, too?" I asked, pressing a hand to his chest as our lips brushed against each other's skin.

"Yes," he groaned, sucking hard on my rapidly pounding pulse point. I made some sort of surprised gaspy-moany noise and writhed against him, drawing a shudder out of him as I raked my nails down his exposed back.

He growled and nipped at my shoulder, slipping his fingers under the waistband of both my pants and underwear and sliding them down. Eager to help, I braced myself around his waist and grabbed his shoulders, lifting myself up enough to get them over my hips, and settled back on my kitchen counter as I pulled away from him enough to shake them off.

Jareth looked me over hungrily, sitting naked and ridiculously aroused on top of my cabinets, and grinned in a very satisfied, predatory manner as he met my gaze. I felt a little thrill at the knowledge that he _wanted_ me, in the sort of primal, instinctive, blood-to-blood way that set my heart racing, the kind that remembered the thrill of the hunt and reveled in the chase, and grinned invitingly back.

Reaching out a leg, I hooked it around his waist and pulled him to me, molding myself back to his body -

And cried out as the intensified buzz of magic around him practically _vibrated_ between my legs, directly against that notorious little bundle of nerves and sending an involuntary spasm through my limbs, the sensation far more concentrated and powerful than I had expected. Jareth growled hungrily and thrust against me, watching as I tensed and shuddered and basically had a seizure. I put a hand on his chest as I felt him shift his hips to do it again, shaking my head.

* * *

"Wait," she gasped, her buzzing hand flat over his heart as she tried to stave off her building climax. The pulse of her magic, _his_ magic, shivered over his skin as she shuddered, and he wondered if it was reacting to her muscle contractions. _That _was going to be an interesting sensation.

Jareth had never felt this before, and it was an unbelievably wonderful discovery. And certainly one that deserved to be fully examined. He cocked a challenging eyebrow at her as she tried to regulate herself and grinned.

She didn't honestly believe that she was only going to come once, did she?

"No," he said, amused, and watched her lovely face as he pushed her over the brink.

* * *

He thrust against me once more, and I came violently, stars whiting out my vision as I clutched at him and convulsed, throwing my head back and keening.

Instead of waiting it out, Jareth pulled me off the counter and took us to the floor, far more gracefully than I could have ever managed on my own, and thrust two of his tingly fingers inside me, stroking a fleshy little spot that had me nearly begging for mercy.

"Oh, hohgod, please," I moaned, one hand clutching at his chest and the other wrapped around his arm, undecided if I wanted to stop him or urge him on. It was frighteningly intense, more than I could bear to handle but dear _god_ I did not want him to stop.

"Please _what_, Sarah," he prompted, leaning over me with a feral light in his mismatched, hungry eyes. "Tell me what you want."

I would have scoffed if I'd had the brain power - like I could form a coherent thought with him shattering any semblance of control, much less a sentence - _I_ didn't even know what I wanted -

Another climax ripped through me suddenly, riding on the fading waves of the last one, and I bucked uncontrollably, digging my fingers into his flesh as I tried not to scream.

Hastily scooting backwards, I shoved Jareth's hand away from me and lunged at him, pleasantly surprised that my trembling limbs responded to my commands at all, and shoved him back onto the floor.

* * *

Jareth laughed as Sarah attacked him, pulling his pants roughly down and over his hips. He helped her rid himself of the last bits of clothing and latched himself to her, reveling in the tingling shock of her shuddering skin as it pressed against him.

She was so beautiful like this, hungry and wild and utterly untamable, trying to devour him just as urgently as he was trying to devour her.

He pulled her leg around his waist and rolled her back under him, shivering with her as he pressed against her and -

They moaned together, pausing for a moment to appreciate the feeling. He was right - this _was_ an interesting sensation.

I have no idea which of us moved first, but after that first stroke, I realized I was now addicted to this.

Sex with Jareth was like riding lightning.

Our limbs tangled together and we did more biting than kissing, tasting each other and moaning encouragements, while the irresistible buzzing pulse of magic between us brought more than just our skin to life. We fit perfectly together, from the important ways like the width of his hips and the size of his… assets, right down to the way my ankles nestled into the curve of his waist and the way his head rested in the nook between my shoulder and my throat. This didn't feel like an intimacy shared between two people - this felt like a reunion of two halves, finally made whole.

Though at first I didn't pick up on it, I noticed that our pace had slowed, though none of the urgency had faded, and we were clinging to each other for closeness, rather than desperate hunger. I sighed as he hit a particularly pleasant angle, and Jareth kissed me, thoroughly and slowly, and I suddenly realized that we weren't just having sex anymore - and the realization both thrilled and absolutely terrified me.

Raising himself slightly, Jareth moved over me, watching as I reacted to him with something extremely close to tenderness. There was something in his eyes, a look that I wasn't used to but instinctively knew, and as I watched him I felt the slowly building heat in my stomach, gently rising this time, and I pulled him down again to kiss me as I let it wash over me, pulling him along in the tide.

* * *

I lay next to Jareth on my kitchen floor, sweaty and a little bit sore and extremely satisfied, and wondered vaguely if my ravioli was still warm.

"I think we may have scarred my dog," I murmured sleepily. Jareth chuckled, lazily tracing abstract patterns over my back.

"How terrible," he said sardonically. I gave him a warning growl, though the after-glow languor that had infected me robbed it of most of its weight.

"You're going to have to buy him an enormous steak to make up for this," I said. Jareth glanced at me and opened his mouth

- And was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

I growled, muttering a few choice words about the questionable lineage of my visitors, and reluctantly pulled myself from Jareth's side. He chuckled at me.

"Now, darling, be charitable. At least they had decent timing," he pointed out. I gave him a feral grin and tossed his pants at him.

"If they'd been much earlier, I'd have had you bog them," I retorted, looking around for my own clothing and realizing that my pants were in an impressively hopeless tangle, and my shirt was still saturated with ravioli sauce.

I sighed heavily, snatching Jareth's shirt instead and pulling it on. I blinked in surprise as my skin rubbed against the cloth - this was quite possibly the smoothest, softest shirt in existence. I hoped Jareth didn't want it back, because I could definitely see myself getting rather attached to this.

The doorbell buzzed again impatiently.

"Yeah, I hear you! I'm coming," I shouted through the layers of fabric, and noticed that Jareth's shirt had a rather sizeable rip in the side now. I grimaced and looked apologetically at him as my fingers wiggled in the gap. "Sorry."

Jareth, still pantsless, looked decidedly pleased for someone whose shirt I had just destroyed and then stolen. Of course he would like the way I looked in his shirt, the possessive bastard…

I blushed, hauling myself to my feet and trying not to smile.

"Would you put some pants on so I can open the door?"

He blinked. "You want me to stay?"

I gave him a funny look. "Of course I want you to stay," I said, stepping over him to walk to the door. "It'll be kinda difficult to ravish you senseless again if you're elsewhere," I said, throwing an impish grin over my shoulder.

"That is an excellent point," he agreed, grinning broadly, and slipped into his ridiculously tight trousers, rather more speedily than I would have expected. I winked at him as I opened the door.

On the other side was a decidedly rough-looking, though not unpleasantly so, dark-haired man, dressed in simple jeans and a tee-shirt, with numerous grease smudges on his face and arms. He looked mildly peeved when I opened the door, but quickly warmed up when he noticed my pantslessness.

"Miss Williams?" he asked, leaning his shoulder on the door frame and casually angling himself in an appealing pose. I tried not to roll my eyes.

"The same," I agreed. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, it's a matter of how _I_ can help _you_," he said with a grin, and held out a hand, dangling a set of keys off one finger.

I nearly danced in excitement as I reclaimed them. "My baby!"

"We combed it bumper to bumper, but couldn't find a single thing wrong with it. We have no idea why it wouldn't start."

I didn't expect them to. Magical sabotage seemed unlikely to leave behind evidence - except maybe glitter.

"Well, sorry to put you through all that trouble for nothing. How much do I owe you?" I asked, slipping behind the door to grab my purse.

"Not a thing, sweetheart," he replied.

I froze. No, Jeff didn't…

I poked my head back around. "What do you mean? Surely this must have been expensive."

He winked. "Very. Someone must _really_ like you," he grinned and eyed my attire pointedly. I blushed and glowered at him.

"Jeff Garner is not responsible for my finances, no matter how fond he is of me, and I will not have him paying for this. Tell me how much it was," I demanded.

The greasy ruffian smirked. "Sorry, sweetheart. No can do."

I leveled the most intimidating glare that I could muster while not wearing pants at him.

"Call me 'sweetheart' one more time and I will rip off your ears and shove them up your nose. This is not your choice, and you have no right to withhold it from me. Now, tell me how much," I commanded.

The mechanic looked slightly uneasy. "Really, ma'am, I can't. Garner made it very clear that you were not to be charged. No offense, but your lover's quarrel isn't worth my job," he said.

I growled in frustration. I'd thought Jeff had _finally _taken the hint…

"_Look,_ pal, I-"

"My good fellow, you are disrupting a decidedly personal, _extremely_ good time, and we would very much like to get back to it," Jareth said, sliding up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. The grease monkey's eyes widened in surprise as he saw my companion and I suppressed a grin as I leaned back into Jareth - he'd probably thought I'd had Jeff hiding shirtless somewhere. "Now, I fully understand your reluctance to disobey Mr. Garner, and Sarah, I am sure, is completely sympathetic and grateful of Mr. Garner's generosity and will respect his wishes. However, just for peace of mind, it couldn't hurt for you to simply tell us exactly how generous he was?" he said smoothly.

"Ah, well, I suppose not," he agreed, and told me the price.

I blanched, suddenly feeling a tad weak at the knees.

"Could I get a second opinion?" I asked weakly.

He laughed, winking and backing out of my doorway. "Lucky Garner fancies you, huh, sweetheart?" he quipped, and strode cockily away.

I growled after him, but Jareth tightened his hold around my waist and kicked my door shut.

"You know, you really are irresistibly adorable when you do that," he said, nuzzling against my neck. I growled at him, too.

"I am not adorable, I am ferocious and terrifying," I corrected. He chuckled.

"Adorably ferocious and terrifyingly cute," he insisted.

I elbowed him in the stomach, though not quite as hard as I probably should have. "You are just _asking_ for a serious bruising, mister," I warned.

I felt his lips curl into a smile. "Mmm. Does this include a spanking?"

Grinning despite myself, I turned around in his arms, wrapping my own around his neck. "It includes quite a lot of screaming and yelling and severe pain."

Jareth slid his hands down and hoisted me up, locking his hands under my thighs as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

"Do tell me more," he encouraged, kissing along my jaw line. "I love when you say such naughty things."

I laughed, running my hands over his decidedly enjoyable shoulders.

"Your Highness, you are a shameless pervert," I accused. He hummed in agreement, and rearranged me slightly - and I blinked. "A shameless, _insatiable_ pervert," I added. "You can't _really_…"

"Now, darling," he chastised, turning towards my bedroom. "Never tell a king he can't."

Grinning mischievously, I released my hold on his waist and slid to the floor, stopping him as we passed my couch and dragging him onto it. "You can't make me come that many times again," I said evenly.

He arched a brow imperiously. "Sarah, my precious thing. Is that a challenge?"

"You bet your sparkly, leather-clad ass it is," I grinned.

* * *

**AN:** Several announcements of great import this time, loves! First : I have been a busy little authorial bee, and now have another story (for another fandom, under another pen name) for your reading pleasure, should you feel so inclined. It's a Confessions Of Georgia Nicolson fic, and if you haven't read/heard of this, please go get a book from the library or somesuch because it is snort-tea-out-your-nose hilarious. The link is in my profile - hope to see some of you there!

Second: **I got a review from Jareth.** No, not kidding! The real, honest-to-sparkles _Jareth!_ It's astounding and fabulous and I am _so giddy right now_. We've documented the Jareth Phenomenon over in the Harem of any of you would like to check it out (link is in my profile, of course) though only members can view the conversation. Has anyone else gotten a review or any sort of correspondence? Please share!

And thank you **so effing much **for the reviews, darlings! It really does make my day, you have no idea. Also, this is the second-to-last chapter here, loves! Just one more to wrap things up (and probably let the little lovebirds shag a few more times, because I _am_ a perv) and possibly an epilogue! So near the finish... and yet so far.

**Freak-4-God** - Terribly sorry to disappoint, darling! Hopefully this chapter makes up for that? :)

**Nanenna **- Well, Jeff is a man, and therefore stubborn beyond all reason. Fear not, though, he won't be making a fool of himself this time around. As for Ziggy - I think perhaps Sarah did not particularly care. After all, she already armed them with silly string and super balls….

**Skylinger **- I agree - sort of - but I would probably still slap someone for doing that to me. Unless it was Jareth. :)

**Aikenichi11 **- Lol! I think he's okay with how things turned out. I haven't read that particular fic, but if it comes recommended, I'll have to check it out. :)  
…I feel like a terrible author now. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long!

**Arynwy **- Jareth would be quite a few things, were I Sarah. Incapable of leaving, for one. ;) Lol! Jeff's literal manhood is not in peril, thankfully, though his ego certainly is - and his sanity, apparently, because he isn't quite gone yet.

**Kiruya **- Lol! Hope this chapter was a little more satisfying (pun fully intended). Alas, you've spoken too soon - Jeff hasn't quite left the building. And he isn't really creepy… is he?

**MyraValhallah **- My, you are a vicious one, aren't you? :) Knew I liked you. Glad you enjoyed, darling!

**Little Margarita** - I aim to please, love! And yes, many many kudos to His Majesty for the show of restraint - though I doubt anyone was actually happy with that particular ending, haha.

**Coffee Kris** - I would be delighted for you to be my story's godmother, though I must request that you don't lock it in any towers or turn it into anything… unnatural, if it's not too much trouble. :)  
Alas - I lied. Nothing until late March. I am a horrible, horrible person. It is no secret, I'm afraid. Though I am very much partial to non-quackiness, and therefore support your decision to not make me feathery.  
Yes, I was a naughty girl and posted the chapter Un-Beta'd. However, this go-round was properly edited before distribution. :D  
Hoping you enjoyed this one as well, darling!

**The Three March Hares** - :D Oh, how I love flattery.

**Horcruxhorror **- It is good to know I am not the only one afflicted with this particular disease. :D Thank you for the solidity.

**UndergroundDaydreams **- Have I mentioned how pretty you are lately? Really, I love getting reviews from you. You are so fabulous at it. And yes, poor, pitiful Jeff…

**Scriptrix-scriptorum** - Lol! Yes, bit of a backfired plan there, hmm, Your Majesty?  
Sorry about the work troubles, love. Need me to lend you a goblin?

**LeannaPotter2.0** - My, you are a sliver-tongued one, aren't you? A kick in the pants sugar coated with adoring flattery? I am quite fond of you. :D Though I am rather inexcusably tardy with these things.  
Good heavens. Has she seen the tunnel bit? He's all man there, honey.

**Mnleonard **- :) Glad you enjoyed, love! And thank you (belatedly) for the November luck - It was much appreciated.

**Writerton **- So glad you liked, darling! Thanks for the review

**Ellen-Ruby** - Ah, ah, darling, counting chickens and hatching and whatnot. Jeff has not retracted his sexy-car claws quite yet. :)  
And I am delighted you so enjoyed yourself! Thank you very much to the review!

**Darkbangle **- Ooh, college - the stealer of sociability. Horrid place, that. Only decent part of the whole thing was the… well, actually the only indecent part was the work.  
Yes! I ADORE you! Finally, someone who doesn't want to string Jeff up by his toenails. He's not a bad guy, right?  
Thank you (belatedly) for the luck on my NaNo, darling - it was greatly appreciated.

**Crafty Joe **- Hahah, I love the image! Hope your present was up to snuff. :)

**Ljuba **- Egad! I was wondering about the small teams of warty people that seemed to want to followme around, recently.

**Kagura **- Feel free to take out the dog. He's a Pomeranian. And awful. I am rather fond of my cousin, though…  
:) I'm glad you like it, love.

**Surelady **- Lol! I do love Ziggy. He's so freakin adorable. Shame on Jareth for defending his castle against such an onslaught of cuteness! And thanks for the wineglass - a little bit of brilliance that popped out of a drunken Monday, haha. Thank you for the review, my lovely little Scot!

**Jedi Kacee** - Lol! Apologies, darling. Try thinking of baseball, I've heard that's effective.

**MagicalMischief** - Wow! All eleven - that is quite impressive. I feel like I owe you a prize or something… How about a nice phallic badge?

**Lassin Sayne** - :D Delighted. Flattery is always so lovely.

**MichArela **- You know, all these cries for 'more' is seriously going to affect my ego. My lover is going to be so disappointed….  
I'm so glad you enjoyed, darling! :) I hope this chapter lived up.

**Insanityfairy **- Alas, March was not so quick in coming…. Sorry for making you wait, lovelies.

**Timestitcher **- Well, not so much for the quick updating, but UST officially resolved. :) NaNo went about as well as writing an entire novel in a single month could be expected, I suppose, but thank you for the thoughts!

**Dancingwithdemons **- An odd bit of coincidence, but my NaNoWriMo novel's working title was Dances With Goblins. :) Therefore, I quite like your name. And I am pleased to acquiesce to your request.

**Gnomelover **- Sorry to have kept you so long, love!

**Wunderkamel **- I am such a horrid author. Thank you for bearing with me, darling!

**Cybernetic Mango** - Fear not, darling, I am actually invincible. Nothing but kryptonite and very sharp criticisms can wound me! (Oh, dear, I've just posted my weaknesses. I do hope no one knows where to find kryptonite nowadays.)

**Digitalwitch18 **- Well, it is nearly finished, only one chapter left! Glad you've enjoyed, darling.

**Dontgotaclue88 **- I'm flattered! Thank you for that, darling, and for the lovely review.

**Yasu Uchica** - Lol! Reading-induced mush is quite amazing in an of itself, darling, and I am suitable pleased with this review. Thank you for taking the time! (And I didn't kill anyone, myself included, during the month, so I'm counting it as a success.)


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